Peredhil

How could anyone not want to be with you, Once they've seen a heart so full and true? If you've cast your pearl before swine Don't give up, love you'll someday find. Beware giving your heart to a selfish one Who says what you need to hear, and then will run You have so much need for a love who is true How could anyone not want to be with you?

laughs at the two PMing publically in the corner, then turns and addresses Dragon Queen. I think this is well crafted - and not so much depressing as realistically representative of a certain view and attitude toward life. So much of how life looks is determined by the emotional filters through which we view it. your poem is nicely done. Hugs all three and saunters away

And a cheering is heard!

Storm Clouds remind me of God's power, and hint of rainbows to come, God's promise. They bring the hope of the moist high winds in which I love to wander and feel the occasional spat of rain on my face. They provide an ever changing tapestry of shapes and figures, many hued whites greys and blacks, fertile misty canvas on which my imagination paints images and stories. I kinda like storm clouds, despite the near strikes of lightnings, wading through flooded streets, and all the damage. I see the wreckage on the ground around me, but my thoughts just keep getting drawn back up .

Mom isn't just a statement of birthing - Although that is part of it. Mom isn't just a cook - Although she may do that. Mom doesn't just nurture - Although she often does. For Mom is a verb of life As well as the noun It is an affirmation of caring She's always around Mom kisses and hugs But when it's best can say "no" 'Cause she loves you now And *after* you grow Mom is the one whose choice Is you over herself To meet your needs Her own go on a shelf And while she grows old And thickens with age And skin roughens and wrinkles And advice seems foolish, then sage Her heart's own reward Comes when you raise and from your wide-open mouth - Your Mother you praise.

yay! I missed you - you're my favorite kidnapper! (I still think that RP thread was hilarious. ) Drop by the Fall Ball thread at the top of this forum and introduce yourself to everyone - and help Ayshela complete her Quill Quest at the same time! Welcome back home to the Pen.

Hugs Good stuff - welcome back home. what do you think about making it hot tears, cold skin = warm soul. Avoids double use of warm.

[Elladan] It was with a bit of a shock that I realized that yes, she'd mistaken me for my clerical brother, and that, no, she wasn't afraid to shake my hand. For some reason, after a lifetime of being able to completely fool everyone outside my family, I was in a place where nearly anyone with power enough to be a threat not only recognized me for another threat - but was able to set it aside. Must be the Peredhil effect. I've seen it and still don't understand it - Elrohir told me once I was similiar to a colorblind person in that regard. Well, he told me that warily and made sure we weren't alone together for a while. Even at six he was a wise one. I didn't bother to correct him. I remember the colors he talks about. All life died when our Mother died. The woman in her flesh may have lived. Dad always treated her as if she were the same. But even at two, I saw inside and knew that wasn't my mother. I've seen her death in everyone but Dad since. He hurts, but he never dies. Pulling my thoughts together as I saw the shadow of rejection at my rude pause reflected in the Huntress' eyes, I tried my real smile, which my brother calls a grimace, in hopes she'd know the difference, and took her hand with uttermost gentle precision, careful to squeeze firmly without damage. "Huntress, it's a natural mistake, we ARE twins you know," trying to put her more at ease. The pulse in her throat and the pupil dialations since she'd come through, the tension in the small muscles everywhere on her body that give most people away, they all said she liked crowds as much as I do. I can't call her Yui, or Temae or anything but Huntress. No other title fits her than the image of a great hunting cat. Smooth, timid, provoke at will. Releasing her hand, I gave myself a mental shake to avoid laughing. She might take it wrong. I guess Dad's had a mellowing effect on me after all. I no longer had the urge to destroy anyone who could be a threat. Stepping back, suddenly everthing slowed outside and sped up inside. I saw something dark strain in her eyes to match me, but she wasn't it. Somewhere Glamdring had been drawn. I opened power and prepared to port. [/Elladan] [Peredhil] It was a pleasure to see Yui, and even more to see the non-hostile awareness of 'Dan. This was a wonderful occasion for him to grow, but I kept a wary eye out for potential threats. 'Dan is so fragile and easily hurt. When I saw his smile go to bared teeth and his eyes flash from dark to obsidian, I smoothly stepped in and hugged him, putting my Will on his surging power before it could reach far enough to flash his aura. I reached out and Knew the Pen for a moment, before I snapped back into myself. I let myself stagger from the effort to encompass the entire Keep, knowing 'Dan would stop everything to catch me. Enough bits remained in my knowing mind to reassure him. "Elrohir's okay, he just doesn't know that it was Nuncio who used one of my portals." I saw the sudden yellow glint to his eyes, and went on, "Nuncio had to go get some new clothes, Guido used his for target practice," I continued with wry humor and a certain tone, "and you can just picture Nuncio's distress." The leap of humor as he caught the image I'd sent of Nuncio trying to enter the Ball in torn cloths replaced his rage in one of his sudden shifts, and he was with me again. I finished the hug, the moment over in a heartbeat, and turned back to Yui. "So," I smiled, "Will Aegon be coming?" [Peredhil] [Nuncio] "I think I'd like the silk shirt and the satin lapels on this one. Can we make sure the guns and knives don't show, but that they are accessible on these?" [/Nuncio]

[Peredhil] I took a sideways step to the right to put myself between Yui-chan and Elladan. Poor boy was just beginning to unwind and I didn't want him to startle. As she came into real space, I gave her a special warm hug, and then one from Aegon that I knew he'd want to have. "Aegon would be proud of you," I whispered softly by her ear, "I know I am." I think it's important to recognize true bravery - not the foolishness that knows no fear, but the everyday heros that act despite fear. "You know..." I winked, "I should introduce you to Regel!" [Peredhil] [Elladan] The Huntress was behind us, it was unmistakable by the itching in my shadow. It still amazes me that Dad can know that someone is that powerful, and has an inner core of darkness, and still can love them. Of course, that could apply to me, so I'd rather he not change. I kept myself loose to honor him. I wonder is she knows how to dance? She knows the dangers of power and is totally fixated on Aegon (now there is another one of which to be wary); neither of us would be careless, which is as safe as life can get. Of course, Elrohir and I are twins, although he is the older. Maybe she thought I was him? [/Elladan]

[Peredhil] It was with a rueful mixture of laughter and sighs that Peredhil watched the party "get interesting" as only Wyvern's catalytic presence could do. He'd long ago quit interfering with the mayhem around Wyvern - it only made it worse. Besides, he'd noticed that no one ever *quite* died, and they all had such marvelous stories to tell... He frowned as he remembered that fellow with whom Elrohir used to talk, something about living in interesting times. Drifting about the room, he automatically released small teardrops of power, activating some of the embedded Cabaret Room enchantments. The long sticky cake trail absorbed into the floor before it could become a safety hazard - although the cake was far too large for a trivial spell. The MADD spells changed alcohol into sugar in bloodstreams, leaving any drinkers at that golden buzz state, without slipping over into drunkeness. Funny how that spell automatically shut off whenever the Endless Booze Artifact entered the room. Healing a few bruises on Wyvern and Salinye that would've ached the next day, such were minor habits. He ended up next to Elladan and just let his love burn for him as he stood silently watching the party unfold. [/Peredhil] [Elladan] I hate big parties. Large crowds. Too many potentials and you just never know. The obvious threats, like Tamaranis, weren't a problem. If they were confident enough to be threatening as a habit, they were unlikely to act without reason. It was the shadow behind the smile, the plotters and crazies you have to look for. He dwelt on these thoughts as he ceaselessly scanned the crowd, with unselfconcious irony. Really, the only thing he feared was himself in another. He felt Dad approaching, and almost resented the warmth that melted away much of his tension. If Guido and Nuncio were here, especially Nuncio, he realized he might actually relax enough to dance. He'd long since determined the patterns and threat levels of the Pen's regulars, and he'd managed to model all the newcomers thus far. One of his teachers, a saint of swords, had taught him the mushin - no mind combat state, that allowed instant reaction and response. One of the few humans since Aragorn who'd deeply impressed him. That had been their first time on that Plane, but it was a favorite - Dad still did most of his shopping there. With Dad safely at his side where he could protect him, he relaxed even more into a quiet latent tension, and actually began enjoying the party. [/Elladan] [Nuncio] I looked at my wardroom, and even Guido's, in despair. There simply was nothing suitable. Guido may forget, but I've always been aware that a Bodyguard reflects on their employer, and simply must always look their best for the situation. I didn't really like what I thinking, but I saw no choice. I needed to get to the Ball; Guido somewhat rubbed Elladan the wrong way. Actually to be fair, given our job, Elladan simply saw Guido as the slacker whenever he was here at the Pen Keep that he was. How, after all we've been through Guildo could constantly forget our professional paranoia and always enjoy himself is beyond me. By this time, I was in The Boss's room, and had my FD Ring off. Before events like these, he always would unbind almost off of his latent links to other Planes and "hook" them around the room haphazardly. No, not really haphazardly, there was definitely a pattern, but never one I could decipher. I looked in all the ways he'd taught me, until I saw the one for London. We carried a revolving account there, and the British tradesmen with whom The Boss had dealt for the last several centuries prided themselves on unflappable good service for anyone who could pay enough - and Giant Guinea Pig or not, our account was deep enough for anything. Hooking my claws into the link (attached this time to the third slat of the bed), I Twisted and stepped through the Portal. Something moved at my back as I was through and I slammed it shut in reflexive protective instinct, drawing my 9mm with my other paw. And realized I was looking at a finely paneled, highly polished mahogany wall. I'd accidently broken the link. Shoulding my weapon, I pushed the swirling knot in the board which lit the light in Mr. Brooks' office and settled in to wait. Might as well get my suits first. The time differential in this Plane worked in my favor. [/Nuncio] [Elrohir] I slammed into Dad's room with sword at front and a combat spell writhing on my tongue, in time to see a large figure disappear into the Portal's light. I lunged across the room after it, but it closed the Portal as touched it - and I almost put my blade through Dad's wall. The Portal was closed - and had been broken. With difficultly I reimpressed the runes I'd readied, and sat on the floor to center myself and consider the situation. Since the Werewolves, not many non-humans had visited that particular place in that Plane. Most of them kept out of sight, or like the Vampires, hid behind advertising and illusion. The Ball would have to wait. I'd have to go after it. I slipped to my feet and went to get my Vest from my room. It had many small pockets with items I'd found useful over the years, and the kevlar didn't interfere with magical flow. I considered asking Elladan to come with me, but I wanted to question whoever'd had the gall to use one of Peredhil's Portal without permission - and how they'd broken the locks on it - or even detected it in the first place. Even other Planeswalkers shouldn't be able to find these. Unless The Dreamer? No, very unlikely and even masking himself, his power was unmistakable. As I began the Ceremony of Opening, I spared a thought to be glad Guido and Nuncio were with Dad at the Ball. There might be a need for a Bodyguard tonight after all. [/Elrohir] [Guido] Da tequila had begun to really slam me, and I considered moshing down and grabbing da floor to stop it moving. But somebody upped da spells, and I was flying high again. With a mental yeehaw, I had a vodka and watched da fun. Wit all deese people here, what could go wrong? [/Guido]

You know, I really truly tried to think about this, but I can't think of anything I'd *want* to do. I fail at my own standards enough, just being a fallable human being, to start thinking about trying at it! I think that might come of having an absolute, external standard of Right and Wrong. That *is* a thought provoking question though, and did result in some soul searching. Now if you'd asked me that about 24 years ago, the litany of things I'd have imagined would've covered a wide-range of activities and behaviors. But now... None of it seems worth the trouble. I'd much rather try to help. -A thoughtful Peredhil

In the hustle and bustle of the workplace It sometimes chances I see your face And reminds that there isn't time To talk together, except in rhyme. When I have time to wander nigh As when I could in days gone by I see you talking on the phone Or programming in the zone There doesn't seem to be time to talk Or laugh or share or take a walk We both have our jobs to do And life has separated me and you But I remember you my friend And how we talked together then The fierce love you showed for your son Or how we cheered the day's being done And so I know that friendship conquers time And our friendship's foundations are sublime Time will come some other day When work is done, for laughter and play.

As you sit and gestate A woman might hesitate And wonder about the face She'll see when she is done She'll think thoughts of comparison About whether its daughter or son "It doesn't matter," she says A proud former Alvarez But as a gentle reminder As this poem reaches to find her Clearly he'll be above the rest Because he'll be born a Best.

Huggles As the Mentor in question, can I say how incredibly proud of both you, and Porcelin (Heart like a Hole) I am? It's almost eerie how those two poems parallel each other - and some of the others from other people who've sent me similiar poems over the last few years - but just couldn't stand to post them. When you've been lied to with certain lies, when abusers have tried to destroy something inside - they leave behind the voices and echos of their darkness. If they started young enough - those lying voices sound like your own thoughts. Once you learn enough to challenge them with reality... You get affirmation poetry like these - if you're smart enough, creative enough, and enough of you has survived to write it. I'm so intensely proud of all those who fight for health and the right to love. Hugs again Peredhil

I'm sorry, didn't realize I was supposed to post thingies in here - I sent theme music for Peredhil, Elrohir, Elladan, Guido, and Nuncio by PM. But those themes, while very representative of them, would be far too personal for any of them to speak on. I'm working on coming up with songs that would fit each one, but that they could use as a introduction to speaking. I'm not so sure Elladan or Nuncio would participate though, as they're kinda shy about public speaking, prefering small groups and one-on-one. A supportive Ancient struggling for time

Sitting in a briefing Mind intent on leaving Best way to fix it Is heading to the exit. These things are mandatory Giving leadership a moment's glory I'm not sure just what they're provin' As I watch their lips constantly movin'. United we stand is the motto to keep Divided we fall - I'm falling asleep And when all meetings are said and done... If we can stay awake- we'll all say we won.

Cheers and congratulates Merelas Wonderful! Sorry your Contest didn't get more entries Gwai', but I think you frightened most of them away. The Writer's Workshop is an guilty area - so many feel as if they *should* post something to help, but just don't know what. I think you did succeed in giving the WW a bit more visibility though.

Well crafted and something a *lot* of Pen people will understand. Personally, I forget the painful past pretty easily, but I make a point of extrapolating a life lesson from it first. That way I won't let my tendencies drift me into repeating the same mistakes again and again. The ones that get me are the continuing ones, which haven't stopped yet. Again, good poem.

Begins laughing You know, it's people with creativity and a sense of humor like you that are about the only thing I miss from EQ. Definitely the people. This was hilarious.

[Guido] Well, I'd gotten careless, rearing up and pulling my gat when all dat flash went off. Stupid I knows, but it was too much like dem starflares from dat mech-world we was on. Of course, instead of lookin' at da flash like anyone else, da Boss just had to look at all da *udder* peoples lookin' at da flash. And so he spots me. So I gets da hairy eyeball look and motioned down to da floor from my balcony post and Nunce still ain't *nowhere* to be seen. I may be dumb at time, but I ain't stupid - I knew if I was to shadow da Boss proper, he'd be all sorts of cranky wit me. 'Sides, Elladan was here. I tried to match dat blue-gem guy wit a Tequila contest, just as a cover, but once he mentioned he thought I was a giant HAMSTER of all t'ings, I lets him win just to get it over. A *hamster*. All our Sicilean Guinea Pig ancestors must be rollin' in der graves. Where was Nuncio? [/Guido] [Elrohir] I was running later than I'd expected, and it was with polite haste I made my way through the Pen toward our rooms. I bumped into several people, to include Nyyark, and either made very brief talk or tried to help them quickly. Better late than offensive. When I reached the bottom of the climb to the chambers, I paused to catch my breath, then twitched as one of Dad's latent portals opened and closed. Reaching over my shoulder, I whispered the Key and pulled Glamdring from his sheath. I was really surprised when the the spirit that I'd known as Gandalf had given it to me as we left, and I tried to keep it well hidden. Moving lightly on the outside of the risers to avoid creaking stairs, I ascended. [Elrohir] [Elladan] Now that I was here, I had the old familiar crowd sense of being in a combat zone. The skin between my shoulder blades itched as the power of all the potential killers in the room beat on me, and my hands felt too empty. Dad finally noticed Guido skulking up doing his Bodyguard job as pathetically as usual, and motioned him down to the floor, where the oaf simply gave up on his duties. Good with weapons and strong as an couple of oxen, but a very direct thinker and easily frustrated. Guarding Dad from across the room gave me something to do, and I actually started enjoying the whole thing, letting parts of my mind run constant simulations of how to take down various people if they became a threat.[Elladan] [Peredhil] The Ball was a success. People were continuing to enter, they were enjoying themselves as much as such a mixture of personalities could, and the music was excellent. After a brief conversation on Japanese Haiku and the different syllable forms with Mr. Bunny, I concede the conversation to his unanswerable "..." repost. A Bard and Master Carrot Mage, he's a bit specialized, so at his request, I cast a minor enchantment to allow him to understand the speech of others, but was unable to fit the translation the other direction, from him to them, into such a small cantrip. When we tried it out, he laughed, and with a wry "..." hopped off toward the food. Nearly literally running into Regel, I realized that since my fellow Terran Angel of Apocolypse had never been properly introduced to the Pen. My assumption of welcome sometimes does blind me to the niceties of etiquette at times. taking his elbow, and I whispered my intent and gained his concurrence, then led him to each of the guests currently attending. Many introductions occurred, along the lines of, "Regel, this is Mr. Bunny, a Bard of Terra and Master of Carrot Magics. He was a staunch warrior in the Angels of Apocolypse, a terrible foe but a great friend. He and I saved each others lives a few times, and I hope you'll extend him a warm welcome as he builds his literary skills - the fierce life he's lived kept him from some of the finer points of the scholarly pursuits." Heh, just for fun, I even "introduced" him to Orlan, Annael and the Quincunx - fellow Angels. I'm sure that the list of names blurred for Regel, Guido the Bartender, Guido the Bodyguard, Doomgaze... After a bit of thought, I skipped Elladan, whom he knew, and didn't draw Yui from her shadows. Never know what the Angels of Apocolypse versus Armies of Darkness conflict remains. The oddly Polite Stranger was gone before we could work around to him, he always seemed one curious step ahead. For our final stop, I presented Regel as Regally as I could to Ayshela, who giggled a bit at my whimsy, but played along magnificently at being reintroduced to someone who'd introduced themself on arrival. He bowed, she curtsied, and Regel showed that while maintaining his warrior and leadership skills, he'd not neglected his ability to lead while dancing. By the third measure, Ayshela had picked up the intricate movements of the Mirror Dance, and they were smoothly gliding and dipping, hands and bodies mirrorring each other's movements with a breath of air between. Out of breath and smiling at the end of the dance, they headed over to the punch bowl as the Band announced they were taking a break for a while. [Peredhil]

[Elladan] As he often did, he patrolled the borders of their acreage in the lee hours of midnight, silent as a shadow, using Ranger skills he'd never let rust. Really, fighting over this miserable piece of land was absurditiy in the extreme, but where Peredhil went, he followed. He no longer questioned why this was so, just that it was one of the foundations of his reality. And this wasn't as bad as other places they'd been. Peredhil used the secret Portal in his Library to come and go to the Pen Keep, and left him in charge. All the lovely blood, washing rage away. He loved the smells of the battles, the screams of pain and terror underwent alchemical transformation enroute, becoming pleasures and pleadings for more. Besides, everything except the undead flesh was good fertilizer. He'd allowed his perceptions to stretch here, honed by his fathers ridiculous limitation that he only counter-attack, never strike the first blow. It was as he thought. The storms of battle were brewing in the cauldron skies of Terra. The sounds of earth tortured under armies tickled his ears, the smells of greed and fear wafted to his finely-bred nostril, and almost he smiled. A magnificent time of blood was coming, coming. Death, the only lover fit for him, was about to be wooed again. In battle, all restrictions cease. ... Looking out over the curtain wall of the modest donjon, he laughed aloud as he assessed that with which he had to work. The research rooms and library were matched only by the Healing Halls for size. The Arch Angels understood the evil of Magi, for they stood their lonely watches out by the borders, outside the concentric ring after ring of Treants, carefully tended by their Dryads. (What had happened to old Fangorn anyway?) In their pools, Nymphs and Slyphs danced attendence on each others. There were an unValared amount of Faerie Dragons sleeping everywhere, small glimpses of rainbows and happy moments - he enjoyed playing tag with them when the occasion arose. With a sour look, he looked over to the Barracks. For every ten Archers, his oh so loving Daddy had hired a Hero. Other Heros from Other Kingdoms led their troops to battle. These sometimes had to be pointed to the battles. With a happy sigh he contemplated their impending demise, all these Heros of the Eighth and Nineth Orders, whom Daddy always hired because he felt sorry for them. Looking out over the curtain wall again, he realized that all this would wither burn and die soon. All the auguries pointed that way. It gave him a warm happy feeling, like when he'd poisoned Elrohir for the first time, for having humiliated him in public, that contented feeling watching him turn blue and struggle to breathe, as he, Elladan, had had to struggle not to cry, before Dad had healed him. Seeing his Father's healing powers in that moment, he'd realized that at three years of age, his vengeances would have limits. He'd made sure he'd set up the situations to kill the rest of them that had seen his shame and weakness, when Elrohir had taken his toy dwarfs and broken one of the heads, he'd made sure he killed the rest of them away from his Father. All these troops, all these armies, were going to die. He'd have to see about lining up some of the automations he'd heard about, the ones that were cheaper and better than the Iron Golems. Having large toys break instead of people should please Peredhil. He no longer bothered to wonder why keeping his father was so important to him. [Elladan] [Peredhil] With a hefty tip for the barmain, he left the Tavern at the White Rose place. He loved wandering around, listening to how others felt and thought. The excellent company, food, and drink. He nibbled on some AoA chocolate, and considered where to go next. A quick trip to see if he could weedle some Seventh Gate cookies, then by the Armies of Darkness place (he fingered the matches he'd found, for he'd promised to let them burn him at the stake again,) and then swing by the Pen. After that, he'd go see how Elladan was doing. [Peredhil]

Cheers Thank you Canid.

Okay, long day here. Just to be sure I understand this completely. There is the Fall Ball thread, and it's OOC Thread. There *will be* a Show thread, and this is its OOC Thread. We post freely on the Fall Ball thread, but don't post on the Show thread until we are introduced. Where do we look for the emoticons that say we're okay to post. In here? In the Show thread? Rubs his nose and thinks of sleep. Sorry to be obtuse.

The public announcement done, Gwaihir leads the happy Annael back through the Member's Only door. Barefoot and for once not leaving a trail of black feathers, the newest Herald follows. Once inside, the door shuts with an ominous BOOM, making her jump, and the lights go out. In a moment, candles flair and then settle to a warm glow. All the Elders are gathered, and both the Loremaster stands before them. Vice Loremaster (and Elder) Gwaihir stands proudly at her side. The other Members of the Pen are standing in eager ranks to welcome Annael, who flutters and then settles, a bit nervious at being center-stage. "Who," booms Ozymandias' voice in regal intonations, "seeks admittance to the inner chambers of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword Keep." Everyone looks at Annael expectantly. A swirl of butterflies surrounds her momentarily, and their gentle kisses on her face wake first her brain from this unexpected shock, and then her lips. "Me." She blushes as her voice squeaks, but then thrusts her chin forward stubbornly. Before she can start speaking her mind, Ozymandias speaks again. "Who," rolls the resonant voice, "Will vouch for her worthiness to enter?" Gwaihir draws himself up proudly and replies, "I am overjoyed to present Annael, who accepted and completed her Quest, to our membership." An impromptu cheer breaks out from some of the more excitable members, but the other Heralds shoosh them to silence. The Elders trust the Role Players to keep order in a ceremony like this. Some of the Poets roll their eyes at all the unnecessary fluff, but settle back down, knowing it meets some type of need in the rest. "I am pleased to announce that Annael has chosen the rank of Herald." This time it's the Heralds who cheer, while the Poets gleefully remind them to keep order. Ozymandias waits with impassive face until silence returns. "Herald Annael, approach me please." Once she stands before him, he continues, "When Gwaihir told you of your acceptance, he took from you the Quill you'd been given when you earned the rank of Quill Bearer, the pinnacle of the non-voting ranks. "Today, I am proud to present you with this," He extends his hand and gazes intently at it. The Gathered Elders focus on the empty hand as well, and a whisper of power winds its way from the very walls of the Pen to gather there. When the final silent vote has been passed, a long slender case of ivory, of the peculiar ambient hue found only in the tusk of a behemoth, rests lightly on the Loremaster's hand. "Accept of me, given in my authority today, and representing the will of the Elders and the membership, your new Quill." Annael reaches forth and takes the flat box, as her butterflies dance intricately around her. In an odd sideways quirk of mind, she realizes her toes are rather chilled standing her like this. Forever she'll remember the smell of the candles, the flashing of their lights glimmering off the irredescent scales of her butterflies, and cold toes when she thinks of this moment. "With this Quill," Ozymandias continued, refocusing her errant thoughts, "You now have the ability to cast your vote and be heard on all membership issues dealing with the Pen is Mightier than the Sword. You now bear and share the responsibility of guiding the guild into the future. You may sponsor members, as Gwaihir has done for you today, create polls, and boldly state your opinions. You are eligible to join one or more guilds, in which the members focus on the deeper Arts of their crafts, and cultivate those Arts outside our walls. "Your Quill is unique to you, and irreplaceable. Care for your membership carefully, lest through inaction or cynicism it wither away." "Welcome." With that word, the applause and cheering erupts unchecked, and most of the membership surge forward to congratulate Annael. A few of the more Ancient or hungry ones head to the refreshments table to stock their plates before joining the line. Annael nods and smiles and says her "thank you"s automatically, while her curiosity itches to know in what shape and attributes her Membership Quill has formed.

Nods I think I understand what you mean, Regel, 'cause that's where I am now. I'm free to be strong or weak or whatever, because I know God has my back. And I know it from experience in my life, the last 20 years. But... I remember the first 20 years, when I thought I was doing the right thing, was mouthing the right words - but still failed. When I went seeking through many many religions and paths, trying a lot of things - and they failed. I even remember the times I was so low, and so suicidal - that I felt like such an outsider, that I didn't think anyone cared, even God. Or if God cared, it was because I was so screwed up, He didn't want me either. While I now know how wrong my perceptions were - that's what I felt then. I still can look at many of my friends and see them struggling without the inner strength and identity I found. Some of them, having known me for a long time, are willing to admit that God works in my life - but make it something special about me, instead of God, which is upsidedown! Because I've never forgotten how it feels to be an outsider, to feel rejected, to feel lost or worthless - when I read something like this instead of affirming my beliefs to them, unless I get prompted by the Big Guy, I usually just try to listen and let them know *I* care. I'm there, they can see me, test me, and see if I'm sincere and real. Remembering how it felt before I accepted God, I find for me, that preaching at someone this wounded is like telling someone depressed to just cheer up, or someone with a broken leg to just ignore it. I kinda view it as stopping the arterial bleeding before I make suggestions on not playing with knives. I wish everyone had the strength and certainty I've found. Not that the storms of life don't come, but that I have an umbrella and a rock on which I can cling, and I know that if I just hold on, I'm guaranteed to survive the storm. I don't know - maybe that's just me. I can look at my birth family and see other ways of sharing God's love, that work for them just as well as this works for me. Maybe you're more like one of them. Which is another nice thing I like - God is a God of individuals, and willing to work with each person differently. Umm, we know direct you back to your regularly scheduled poetry readings...