NaNo update and more music

I've made it through the end of NaNo and beyond. My story is sitting at over 100k right now and I'm not sure if I'm finished with it or not. Please accept these music videos in exchange for me and my mushy writer brain.

Not a good day

Sometimes things just go wrong no matter what you hope for.

As soon as she appeared in the entry way, her five cats descended on her, yowling. Aya laughed and filled their food dishes. They ate a little but soon Rocky, the only male of the bunch began trying to bury the bowl he preferred. She'd picked Rocky up from the shelter four years earlier, when he was only seven months old. He'd been neutered, but they told her they'd found him as a stray beside the road. When she asked a vet about his tendency to bury his food, she'd been told that for a cat rescued like Rocky had been that was perfectly normal. Strays had to bury their food in order to protect it from other animals.

She started towards her computer when her phone went off. She grabbed it and saw it was from Jesimae. She answered. Before she could even say anything, Jesimae cut in. “Aya, Will's in hysterics. I'm pretty sure Damon got to her apartment. It's trashed, anything of real value is either gone or smashed into pieces, and there are marks in blood all over it.”

Aya heard the other woman's sobs. “Get her as far away from there as possible,” Aya said. “Has she gone inside?”

“No,” Jesimae said. “We noticed this from the door. I wouldn't let Will in when I saw the bloody marks. They looked too much like runes.”

“Good,” Aya said. “Get her over here as soon as you can. If it was Damon who orchestrated this he's going to have some of his goons looking for her. Not to mention if those marks are what I think they are, it's too dangerous for her to go in.”

“All right. We'll be there quick as we can,” Jesimae said. She ended the call.

Aya sat down at her computer and turned it on. She smiled as it booted up instantly. Let others sing the praises of other operating systems. She loved her linux machine. It was up and ready long before any of the other operating systems she'd seen.

As soon as it was completely up she opened a browser window. She went to her bookmarks and selected one particular site. It asked for a password. Aya typed hers in. There was a momentary pause as it verified that she was who she said she was, and then the page began to load.

This was a page that only Otherworlders could access. The site would never stay in a browser history, the password would never save, and those that ran it had procured their own server and kept it under password lock as well. Those who needed it could access it. All others would never know of its existence.

When it was finished loading, she clicked on the link that would take her to the area where Otherworlders could check to see if someone they knew was incarcerated in a human prison. She glanced at the corner. It had been updated five minutes before she got it. She put in Damon's name and clicked the search button.

To her relief, Damon was still in the human prison. Not only was what he'd been arrested for according to the human authorities listed, but all of the crimes he'd committed against Otherworlders were there as well. Damon's list against the Otherworlders was long, with several serious offenses. He was usually too quick to get caught, and the enforcers in the Otherworld society had been looking for him for quite a number of years.

She read the note on the entry. Incarcerated in human jail. Enforcer sent. So they weren't taking any chances. They were going to take care of Damon for good. Aya sat back and regarded the page. She'd keep refreshing until she knew for sure what Damon's fate was. He had some powerful allies, and she didn't want to see him slip through the noose again.

What about Mordred?

On Friday, I shared a sample of the music I listen to while I'm writing. One of the songs I shared was Mordred's Lullaby. I love this song for many reasons. First, the melody and lyrics are awesome. But also for the thoughts it brings.

People vilify Mordred all the time as the one who killed King Arthur. But what people don't seem to remember is that he is Morgana's son. Where did he get his intense hatred of King Arthur? From his mother.

What kind of woman was Morgana? (Or Morgan Le Fay, if you're familiar with that name.) Was she a conniving bitch who sought only her half brother's demise? Was she the bitter cast off who was denied her rightful place? Was she a child of the fay who demanded Arthur's life as the price?

In some legends, we see Morgana as one of the women who takes Arthur to Avalon when he's so gravely injured. If that's the case, why was her son the one who fought him?

Then there's the somewhat recent version of King Arthur that came out in 2004. Mordred didn't exist in that movie. Neither did Morgana. Where did she come from then in the Arthurian legend?

There are so many questions about Mordred and Morgana, and their roles in the world of King Arthur and his knights. There are countless retellings of the legend of King Arthur that it's anyone's guess.

My goal is to read as many books on the legend and when I have, create my own stories about Morgana and Mordred. Because I want to see what they're like. I want to hear the story from their sides. Who are they and what are they truly like?

How about you? Are there characters you've read in faerie tales, myths, or legends that you're curious about? Who are they? What do you think of them?

My writing music

As this is November and NaNoWriMo, I can guess that you will all understand that I'm listening to music as I work. So I thought once again I'd share a little of what I'm listening to as I work. So here, a collection of songs.

A child dreams

Ravensha is but a child, yet sometimes a child's dreams can carry a kernel of truth.

 Ravensha's body twitched as she slept. She whimpered quietly. One of the women tending the fledglings nudged her with her foot. “Wake up, child.”

Ravensha opened her eyes with a gasp. “Red eyes,” she whispered. “The red eyes are coming.”

“Be silent.” The foot struck her wing harder and Ravensha cried out in pain.

“What goes on here?” Ersa, favored mate of the Sky-Lord, walked into the cavern.

“Just an unruly fledgling, my lady,” the woman said, kicking at Ravensha again. “My apologies if her cries disturbed you.”

“What's disturbing me is your abuse of the Sky-Lord's daughter,” Ersa said coldly. “Ravensha was recognized as his child. You have been told to treat her well, and I find you striking her with the intent to harm. Shall I speak to the Sky-Lord about your actions?”

The woman blanched. “No, my lady.”

“Then I suggest you moderate your treatment of his daughter,” Ersa said. She looked down at Ravensha. “Now, what disturbed your sleep?”

“Red eyes,” Ravensha said again. “The red eyes are coming.”

Ersa raised an eyebrow. “Red eyes? Coming here?”

Ravensha nodded. “I saw them. They crawled down the stone like the rock creepers. They're coming here. They're bad people. They're going to hurt us.”

“It was just a dream, Ravensha,” Ersa said. “You know no one comes down the cliff. Go back to sleep.”

“Yes, mama,” Ravensha said. She wrapped her wings back around her and closed her eyes.

“My lady, I understand that she is the only female the Sky-Lord has claimed out of the many he has sired, but should we really be treating her any differently from the rest of the fledglings?” the woman asked.

“It is rare for a Sky-Lord to recognize a female,” Ersa said. “You know this. He must see some value in her, and I will not see her harmed just when the Sky-Lord finds favor with her. He could summon her to his presence at any time. Do you want him to see her bruised?”

“No,” the woman said. “But I also do not want to have him see her undisciplined.”

“Chastise her if you wish, but moderate your blows,” Ersa said.

“Yes, my lady,” the woman said. Ersa left.

Holiday traditions

Holidays are always hard for me. Last year I spent my Thanksgiving and almost my Christmas in a mental hospital. My mom loved the holidays and would go all out for them. I lost someone I loved just after New Year's Day. My lack of interest in it makes me not want to celebrate Christmas.

I've long wondered what makes holidays so good for other people and so lousy for me. My depression is a little worse around those times. Himself used to love celebrating Thanksgiving, but after the loss of his mother a few years ago, Thanksgiving is just as hard for him as it is for me.

Thanksgiving is the best of the holidays for me too. Not because of the food, but because I get to see my brother and sisters. Even if one of my older sisters and I have some problems with each other. We've all agreed to have a truce for the holiday so we don't upset my dad. This year we won't have that as none of the older ones can come for dinner and dad decided he would rather go to a restaurant that's open on Thanksgiving rather than cook.

Holidays have become so commercialized I think people have forgotten about what they're supposed to mean. I don't mean the religious background of them. I mean the fact that they're supposed to be around family.

I'm one of those people angry at businesses for being open on Thanksgiving and Christmas. In many cases, from the people I've talked to, they're not allowed to call out on either of those days because if they are they'll be fired. They're not allowed to request the days off, but the managers can. One friend of mine is a cashier. She told me that on Black Friday, there were fifteen cashiers on and one manager. You can guess what kind of chaos that caused, and the store manager didn't care what the reason was. He was angry that they lost sales because people walked out when the manager didn't come to answer their requests.

Holidays should be about family. They should be about having fun with your family. Don't get me wrong. I love getting gifts at Christmas. I enjoy giving them too. But I don't look at it as Christmas. I look at is as loving my family and sharing in a tradition we've established.

Families develop traditions for the holidays. Each one celebrates them a little differently than the others. Traditions are a lot of fun. Those same traditions that they've participated in since they were children can be carried on when the children grow up and have children of their own. But those families will develop their own traditions as well.

What about you? What holiday traditions do you have? This is for any holiday, not just Thanksgiving or Christmas.

The poisoned apple

A stranger brings Dairine a sweet treat. But what is it in truth?

Dairine was humming to herself, a song she'd heard in town one day, when there was a knock on the door. She was long past the fear of opening it. An elderly woman she didn't recognize stood on the step. “Forgive me, but I was told in the village that there was a woman here who could help me.” She held up a cloak with a tear in it. “Can you fix this?” Her voice grew hoarse. “I don't have much in the way of money. I lost my husband several months ago and haven't gotten everything resolved yet for me to be comfortable.”

“It's an easy fix,” Dairine said. “But, forgive me, I can't possibly work without some sort of payment.”

“What about these?” The old woman held out a basket of apples. “They're straight from the orchard. I know they're not much, but it would be something.” She pulled one of the largest out of the basket. “If you want to know how they taste before you work, you can try this one. If it's not to your liking I'll find some other way of paying you.”

Dairine loved apples. She'd missed them living with the miners. They were too expensive in town since the orchards around the town produced the kinds of apples only the highborn could afford. She hesitated for a moment, and then took the large apple from the woman. “Would you care to share it with me?”

“I get my fill of apples during this season,” the old woman said. “Go ahead. That one's all for you.”