Stay With Me

Stay With Me

Been trying to write Cwen’s goodbye to Durrow for about a week now. It’s two sentences long, though I have a lovely screenshot. Clearly, it’s not going so well.

This post a while back that featured Passenger’s Let Her Go was Cwen’s song that was mainly related to Oendir. Today, here is a song for Rheb. The start of their relationship was just a one night stand for Cwen; when pain and longing turn into comfort and warmth, is it just as genuine a love?

Sam Smith’s original is beautiful, but Ed Sheeran is better. Because he’s Ed Sheeran.

Guess it’s true: I’m no good at a one night stand
But I still need love ’cause I’m just a man
These nights never seem to go to plan
I don’t want you to leave; can you hold my hand?

Oh won’t you stay with me?
‘Cause you’re all I need
This ain’t love it’s clear to see
Darlin’, stay with me

Why am I so emotional?
No, it’s not a good look; gain some self control
Deep down I know it never works
But you can lay with me so it doesn’t hurt

Oh won’t you stay with me?
‘Cause you’re all I need
This ain’t love it’s clear to see
Darlin’, stay with me
Won’t you stay with me?
‘Cause you’re all I need
This ain’t love it’s clear to see
But darlin’, stay with me

That Random Song that Gets You in the Feels

As I was grading papers today, I was listening to a random YouTube mix based off of Newton Faulkner. I wasn’t really listening to the playlist, though, because grading. So as I was typing out answers to the parts of speech exercises in order to create an answer key, I didn’t understand why I suddenly got incredibly depressed. I mean, typing out

  1. noun
  2. adjective
  3. pronoun
  4. noun

isn’t really all that emotional.

So I paused my work and clicked over to the YouTube tab and restarted the song that was playing. I don’t listen to a lot of radio, nor do I expose myself to a lot of random music on internet or app stations, so I had never actively heard “Let Her Go” by Passenger, and that was the song.

Music effects me (as it does most of us) pretty strongly and that is one of the reasons why I love it so much. But I don’t appreciate it when it sneaks up on me and makes me tear up right before students are about to march in for the next class! I mean, it’s hard to explain to a bunch of fourteen year-olds that this song is perfect for Cwen right now… all you have to do is change “her” to “him.” They don’t really get that because it’s snowing outside, it makes the lyrics cut sharper. It’s more than hard… it’s ridiculous. (Though there is that handful that get what I’m talking about, they’re not in the class that was coming in, unfortunately.)

So, I drank some hot tea and focused the feels into this blog post, and now I can share the feels with you.

Happy Thursday.

The People-Monster


This is a stream-of-consiousness essay resulting from this week’s US elections, the personal, real-life situations I am in, the in-game drama that any DM goes through as they host a campaign, and the fever I have. It really is more IRL, but the parallels my muddled brain is creating between IRL and gaming somehow makes it work for me. I hope it works for you.

If not, it’s a glimpse into me. My thoughts. My struggles. My hopes and dreams. And perhaps where my righteous indignation stems from.

Enjoy. Or not. Up to you.

The People-Monster

I don’t like people.

Sorry if you’re a people.

“People,” you see, is plural. With “people” always comes hidden agendas, egos, conceit, condemnation, and selfishness. With “people” you have the mob mentality that can turn a single “person” into a part of a seething, emotion-driven monster. The arm that bears the torch. The mouth that spews the hate. The foot that kicks the fallen. When a person becomes a part of the people-monster, they gain the strength of that monster and do terrible, horrible things. They believe their own selfish agendas are part of a greater good and therefore even as they become one with the monster, they work against it, angering it, causing it to rage all the more.

“People” swallow up individuals and either devour them or assimilate them. Resistance is futile because the sheer numbers of “people” usually dominate and we want to be part of a number. We are social creatures. We want to work with the body of the people-monster, otherwise we become a discarded wing, a broken shell, a lost tooth. We want to be more than a faceless statistic but we don’t want to be left out of the numbers, either.

But when you are a people-monster made of different ideas and parts and beliefs and expectations and fears and angers and needs and desires and silences — eventually you have to start sheering away the painful parts in order to save yourself.

This toe, here. This toe won’t balance with the other toes. It wants to twitch and itch and walk this way not that.

I’m sorry, toe, you are part of the monster that causes it pain. You have to go.

This eye won’t look the same way as that eye. We can try to correct it, but eventually it will become useless, or, worse, a burden.

This hand keeps scratching that one.

This lung refuses to breath in tandem with the other.

The refusal of the parts of the people-monster to work as a whole is ultimately its own demise from within and what is left is a broken pile of abandoned body parts that are more than just body parts, but they are people. They are more than people they are a person and they are left broken and angry and the light that could be The People fades.

We, The People, used to mean something. It used to be strong and have weight that the person belonged to something to assimilate to would fight for ideals and hopes and dreams against the “people” who turned into monsters. Everyone working together to find their own place in The People to help the whole and not just achieve their own agendas. An ideal where a finger can be a finger and an elbow can be an elbow and a fingernail doesn’t have to feel bad it is not a heart. Or lungs. Or a brain.

We all know how much a broken fingernail can hurt, yet we only see them when they’re broken, not when they’re stoically protecting our fingers from the constant beating they take as we navigate this world. We don’t think about our eyelashes standing guard over our corneas until one falls or curls the wrong way and pokes us. Our retinas don’t see the neurons in our brains firing to interpret their work. They simply trust that somewhere, some place, somebody’s got it covered.

“People” have a tough time with that trust. We deny what our organs do every day – we don’t trust that the brain’s got it covered. Because –  you know! – they eyes have sent crappy material to us before, so we shouldn’t trust them.The brain has sent us faulty interpretations. “People” don’t trust themselves, so how can we ask them to trust another?

“People” do not trust themselves because they are so afraid of disappointment and failure. Instead of working to compensate for a mishap, malfunction, or misunderstanding, instead of working to enhance something else (like sense of smell develops to compensate for lack of sight), the people-monster cowers, broods, rages, destroys. And ultimately, it destroys itself.

I have this hope, that one day people can come together and not become a monster that devours itself from within. That they can find their natural function in the The People and accept their role, the importance of their function, and the fact that things change so sometimes they have to adapt. The eyes are not the most important part when you’re sleeping. The taste buds are not important until we eat or drink. They wait patiently for dawn or supper time and don’t spend wasted energy worrying about things that are beyond their function.

How, Cwen? How can I do such a thing? How can I accept…

Part of accepting is enduring, recognizing, and believing. Enduring the fact that sometimes, the world does not revolve around you (or me). Recognizing that others are far more capable than you realize and that a world of fear is a world where terrorist and the Dark Lords win. And finally, believing that it is possible to love, respect, or even admire someone or something while not understanding or believing in it in itself. That I can extend my hand to you and you can extend your hand to me and together, our parts will not turn on one another because we trust each other to look out for one another because even though I think you’re wrong, you’re still a person and I still care.

Interlude: Eirikr’s playlist, updated

Life should be a musical. Or at least that is what I say. Music is that universal language that allows people to express themselves in a way that transcends the things that separate us. Or something else equally cliche and profound.

Eirikr was never really meant to become such a rounded character. I have Eruviel to thank for his development; the Dale plot was initially meant to be a side story for me to blog while focusing on other things in-game. Luckily, it grew, as RP often is wont to do.

As a character, his soundtrack has always existed. Songs like Ludo’s Anything for You easily found their way onto his playlist to define his love for his wife. Since Dale finished, however, Eirikr has changed. Grown some and died some. The following songs are added to the playlist of his life. Enjoy.

The Price of Freedom by Takeharu Ishimoto (cover by “ViolnTay”lor Davis and ArnoMusicTV)

I love Taylor Davis, and this cover is one of my favorite renditions of The Price of Freedom. I will admit, the first time I ever played Crisis Core, I couldn’t even play the end because I was crying so hard. And the next time. And the time after that. Final Fantasy VII introduced me to RPGs, Japan, and video games. As much as some people have problems with it ‘as a game,’ I will always love it for the story (as messed up as some people might think it is).

Cloud carried a burden. The sacrifice of another for his own freedom, the need to prove himself from childhood, and the loss he felt when he couldn’t save Aerith. So much fail.

As I was writing Eirikr, I did not even realize how much Cloud was influencing him, especially Advent Children Cloud. “I’m not fit to help anyone – not my family, not my friends. Nobody.”  Eirikr presently suffers from these feelings of guilt and loss and they weigh upon him greatly. The introduction of the wolf probably came directly from the lone wolf of AC – I just didn’t realize it at the time. It first manifested when Eirikr was in Thorenhad debating on how to deal with his father – and thus which path to take: light or dark. And it showed itself again after he returned to Bree without his wife who died in childbirth.

The haunting violin, the strong electric guitar chords. The price of his freedom and the freedom of his siblings. You’re gonna carry that weight…

Zero’s Theme from Vampire Knight 

Maybe this says something about me. Undead. Underdog. Painstakingly protecting those he loves despite his desperate desire to protect those he loves from himself. Ah, Kiryuu.

But what does it say about Eirikr?

Simple, haunted, searching. Alone by choice. Loved against will. Hope.

The Mountains Win Again by Blues Traveller

I pick up my smile put it in my pocket
Hold it for a while, try not to have to drop it
Men are not to cry so how am I to stop it
Keep it all inside don’t show how much she rocked ya

Ooh can you feel the same
Ooh you gotta love the pain
Ooh it looks like rain again
Ooh I feel it comin’ in
The mountains win again
The mountains win again

Dreams we dreamed at night were never meant to come to life
I can’t understand the ease she pulled away her hand
This time in my life I was hurt enough to care
I guess from now on I’ll be careful what I share

Ooh can you feel the same
Ooh ya gotta love the pain
Ooh it looks like rain again
Yeah feel it comin’ in
The mountains win again

A pocket is no place for a smile anyway
Someday I will find love again will blow my mind
Maybe it will be that love that got away from me
Is there a line to write that could make you cry tonight
Can you feel the same
Yeah ya gotta love the pain
Ooh it looks like rain again
Ooh feel it comin’ in
The mountains win again
Ooh the mountains win again



Cwen Sings: Rain

Listen! There’s some “She’s using a cheap mic” distortion, but eh.


Cowboy Bebop is one of the classics. I don’t care who you are or what you like, you must like CB to be my friend. I mean, Spike Spiegel. Jet Black. Yellow vinyl-clad Faye Faye. Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV. And Ein. I never had a particular fondness for corgis until I met Ein.

And let’s not forget the music. The soundtrack is absolutely brilliant and plays a vital role in the series. The music of the Seatbelts drives the series as much as the great characters – it is practically a character itself. Therefore, it is easy to use their songs in the soundtrack of life, er, the lives of my characters.

I envision Eirikr possessing the same intensity as Spike. Mellow and relaxed until something gets under his skin and then he’s yelling at Jet for bell peppers and beef sans beef. Calm and collected until he’s scented his prey. Roguish. Charming. And haunted. Broken. But surviving.

Rain is from The Ballad of Fallen Angels.” Spike is facing he ex-partner who recently murdered their mentor and kidnapped Faye Valentine, who Vicious used as bait to get Spike to show. “When angels are forced out of heaven, they turn into devils…”


Cwen Sings: Wicked Little Town

Okay. So.

I can’t really draw in real life. My sketches here clearly demonstrate my issues with proportion. I am not very crafty, and the only other thing I have to show off in general is my singing voice. It was better in high school before the college sorority days of mixers and cigs.  But it is decent.

So I decided to do their playlists. I was ambitious and was going to cover Massive Attack’s Teardrop because that is Anya’s theme song. Oh my golly miss molly, that is hard to sing. And I’m kinda an alto, so…yeah. Will work on that one.

Then I decided to do Ani Difranco’s Overlap, but I wasn’t satisfied with it. So…I did one that I knew very well and probably reflects current Anya’s (surprisingly) mellow feelings while still expressing her concerns for things in general.

Wicked Little Town written by Stephen Trask, from Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Sidenote1: I messed up a couple lyrics because JCM’s accent was very heavy in the original soundtracks. NPH is much more precise in his articulation and thus I realize the error of my memorized and firmly embedded interpretation of the song. Sorryz.

Sidenote2: I was a Hedhead before it was cool. I have a tattoo to prove it! (Not of like, John Cameron Mitchel’s face or anything. That sort of thing creeps me out. No offense if you have like someone’s face tatted to your bicep or something. I just feel like it’d be staring uncomfortably while I peed.)

Sidenote3: I may be violating Sound Cloud’s copyright rules because it’s not something I composed myself. So if the file disappears, I’ll figure out something else!

Ludo in Lotro

Lotro RP Played by...

Ludo is a band that I would probably follow around the country in a van. Well, was as they are no longer a band, but they should be. They were so absolutely wonderful and their music still is.

After a chit chat and channel spam of Ludo songs, I decided that an official blog post dedicated to their songs and how my characters would love them was in order. So, here we are: Ludo in Lotro, which can be found here on Audiosplitter.


“The Horror of Our Love” – Anya gets a bit obsessive. While she’s not gone off the deep end yet, the potential it totally there. Is it murder if he’s already dead?

Ultimately, “The Horror of Our Love” is about the all consuming love that turns one into a insatiable monster. Anya can definitely be a monster when it comes to Morty.

“Please” – She wants something special with Morty, something that’s just between the two of them. Each love is special, and once she accepts that, she may find contentment and happiness. “Please save this for me; I’ll come back to you, love, I promise you. Please save this for me and until I return, my love will burn…”


“Too Tired to Wink” – Having been through a lot, Cwen often feels rather zombie-ish. She pushes through and tries to remember that there is always a light at the edge of the Mirkwood.  “Look at all the stars, we’ve come so far even if we don’t know where we are it’s gotta be somewhere great…or am I just too tired to wink?”

“Such as it Ends” –  “Love, such as it ends, breaking the hearts that wouldn’t bend…


“Whipped Cream” – What can I say. Lina likes sex. She likes things that are good and whipped cream are good. She likes fun. “I really want it…”

“All the Stars in Texas” – She’s a bit of a bad girl when she needs to be. She’s a bit of a good girl when she needs to be. She does what she wants. “All the stars in Texas ain’t got nothin’ on your eyes when you say let’s hit ’em one more time…”


“Anything for You” – Eirikr defined himself by his love for his wife. Ninim was his world. “I’ve gotten drunk and shot the breeze with kings of far off lands; they showed me wealth as far as I could see. But their kingdoms seemed all shrivelly and they cried with jealousy when I leaned in and told them about you.”

“Drunken Lament” – “Now you’re gone and I’m lost, in the swells I am tossed – bobbing and choking and losing the fight in the fog. You said, “Forever.” Tell me, why can’t you stay?”


“Battle Cry” – Poor Abbi. Truth be told, he doesn’t even have a bio yet. I  mean, he has the background his siblings have given him, but a purpose and motivation of his own? No. Which is why I feel “Battle Cry” is appropriate. “We are young and we will never die. We won’t give up; this is our battle cry! We will defeat the other guy!”


“Topeka” – Aeron is like a whole person. He’s a white knight that isn’t trying to be a white knight. He just really is that nice of a guy. A thousand years between birth and death as a Man gives a certain type of insight. “Topeka” is about finding a truth, a belief. A self.

“I’ll Never be Lonely Again” – While he will not be reunited with his love until the end of Time, he deals.

Meet Loxra, Kayal Ninja – Work in Progress

So, the boyfriend is involved in about five trillion DnD campaigns at any given moment. Recently, he’s invited me to join one he hosts via Fantasy Grounds on Mondays. I decided to roll a Fetchling ninja named Lox. This is a work in progress and I have never had any formal training in art aside from high school Intro to Art stuff, so don’t judge too harshly.

*critical hit*



probably stolen from Word Porn...
probably stolen from Word Porn…

Anyatka shakes her head slowly. “You don’t want someone like me. And there’s only one I want.” The red paints her cheeks as she closes her eyes and turns her face toward his touch. After a moment, she whispers, “They can give you what you want, Morty, but I don’t think they can give you what you need – what you don’t even think you need.”

Morducai [gazes] softly at her. “And what’s that?”

Anyatka looks up at him slowly, nervous, but sure. “Someone to belong to.” The hand that rested on his arm rises to touch his face. “And belong with.”

Morducai ‘s faintly unmasked expression suggests that her answer hit much more of a chord than the man expected…. (from January 22, 2014)

***Anya and Lina





“While I see it coming together, I do not see it sticking.”

“Eh, it’s good fer us both right now. Who cares about the future? Why’s ye thinkin’ ‘bout it anyways?”

“Because you are my friend. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Ain’t nuthin’ ta tell.”

“What if I needed to find you?”

“Ye ain’t never come lookin’ before.”


“’Sides, we go t’gether right nice. Ye know, I think he ain’t originally from the Bree-lands? E’en his thing’s dark as night.”

“I do not want to have this conversation any more.”


“Do you love him?”

“Not tha’ I’m ware of.”

“Do you even like him, or is it all…”

“Oh, yeah. I like him a lot. More’n any other person in the Bree-lands. And we fit t’gether nicely.”

“I told you I didn’t want to know.”

“Nah, I mean, like, person-to-person, too. Not just ‘ye know’. What about ye? And that ugly grave-digger? Ye love him?”

“He’s not ugly. His face has character.”

“Fine. Fair ‘nough, I s’pose. But d’ye love him?”


“E’en if his face got character, but his loins ain’t?”


“Yer so stupid.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

***Anya and Aeron

“Hey, um. Are you there?”


“Oh, um. Good. Can I ask you a question?”

Of course. Though I do not have many answers right now.

“Sure, sure. Um. What’s it like? Seeing the world through my eyes?”

You are short. I didn’t notice it at first, I thought perhaps I was just tired after a long march. Or something was wrong with my head. I did not realize it was your head.

“Huh. You remember things now. For instance, that you had met Or-Orchil.”

The squinting woman with the arrogant man with all the answers?

“I do not think she is with Morty any more.”

I did not mean it that way. I meant simply that she was speaking with him. I associate her with him for simplicity.

“Well, then, I guess so, yes. You probably saw them together when they…”

Why do you put so much emphasis on their relationship?

“I-I don’t know.”

Oh, wait a moment. I see it. I am sorry.


…Did you have another question?

“It’s about your beloved.”

Ah, yes. Faethril. I am afraid for her.


She dabbled.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

In black magics. And when I volunteered for Fornost, she was very afraid of some things that could befall me.

“She didn’t want you to go?”

Oh, no. She understood it was something I had to do. But she was afraid.

“You think she did this?”

Yes, in an attempt to keep me safe. Alive.

“So how do we stop this?”

I do not know that yet.


My thoughts exactly.


((Happy Valentine’s Day! Or as I have taken to call it, Single Awareness Day.

One thing I have noticed since returning to LOTRO is the number of community led events hosted on Landroval. This completely thrills me, though I am not used to having scheduled RP. I’m not used to scheduled anything. Living by a bell every working day of my life created this disdain for regimented scheduling outside of my career, I believe. So, on Wednesday, I did not realize it was Wednesday and that I wanted to go to the Broken Cask because two Wednesdays ago I was caught in RP before I knew it was happening. And today, February 14, 2014, though there are many events scheduled, none of my characters necessarily have “dates” to attend with them (Fal has weekend plans, darn her! And would he even be drug to one of them?).

Luckily, Torlach and Cwendlwyn have a date scheduled in Lord Elrond’s Library to research the necklace. Somehow, this humorously imitates life: hot date for Valentine’s Day? Yeah with an old and dusty book!))

Quotes – OOC

February 2-9, 2014

stolen from Word Porn
stolen from Word Porn

Anyatka glances over at Tor nervously. Silence is unnerving. Speaking is unnerving. Torlach is unnerving.

With so much going on with my characters, I often copy and paste quotes or chat log just to keep things straight. I save important plot points or particularly spectacular moments in my Scrivner project that holds all my blog posts, character sheets, and ideas. This past week, a lot has happened for all three of my girls. Lina has entered a committed relationship, Anya’s possession is gathering interest, and Cwen – well, heck, she’s back in Bree RPing. As a nearly retired character who had been out of the scene for almost an irl year, that’s saying something.

As an English teacher, I cannot help but start to analyze the characters and their interactions. RP is living, breathing. One person alone does not control it (unless they’re RPing with themselves, and that’s a whole ‘nother story). It is not unusual for me to go back and spot missed posts – especially in the Pony – or situations where something someone said could have been taken entirely the wrong way. Art imitates life, and RP is an art. It only serves that misunderstandings might take place, profound and wise words might be uttered, or characters grow in ways unexpected.  **Warning: potential spoilers for The Necklace/Bracelet plot which should be renamed to something equal parts lame and sexy, like “Bound by Fate”**

To Hallem:
Emmelina scratches her cheek and laughs. “I remind ye o’ a mad-woman? Wait’ll ye get t’know me.” She grins at him as she raises the mug to him and then tips it back to chug it down. Smacking her lips, she nods to Barliman for another. “Wha’ makes ye say I remind ye of her?”
Lina is proud of her mask, and mask it is. She doesn’t want anyone getting past it to poke at the pain she drowns in ale and crazy antics.
Emmelina raises a brow and shifts her weight from one leg to the other. “Grave-diggin’ eh? But rather be climbin’ the earth rather than diggin’ in it?” She takes a more measured sip from her ale. “Interestin’ combination.”
Despite her youth and apparent idiocy, her mind is sharp and oftentimes, Lina will say things that reflect deep wisdom that comes from experience and a certain level of instinct about people. She simply chooses to be carefree because the alternate is life-crushing. She is a young woman of extremes.

To Falros:
Emmelina nods. “Long day. Lotta clothes.” She starts to turn to tromp down the steps but only makes it down two before turning back and returning to him. “Where’m I goin’?”
Lina is very uncertain about her relationship with Falros at first. The context of sex has her all confuddled. She’s blunt enough to ask in the middle of the Pony whether she’s going to her place or his for the night, but elusive enough to make the true question unclear. Falros might have assumed she meant directions for his house, not her place in his world. Regardless, they have worked things out and Lina has found a place at Falros’s side.

Anyatka tucks her hair back behind her ear and says, “Go lurk in some other corner, Torlach. If you please.”
Self explanatory! Though Anya actually standing up to Torlach is something new. Perhaps the influence of Aeron’s cool confidence? Or is Anya finally growing up a little? Regardless, Torlach is vital to her survival now that he has the necklace. 

At Torlach:
Anyatka didn’t not mean to sound like gollum in any way shape or form.
Anyatka ducks away from his hand and swings below his arm to rugby tackle him. Since she’s rather average and scholarly, let’s see how far back she bounces!
This was just hilarious. Faethril-Anya taking on Torlach. For realz, bro. Oh, and she bounced far.

To Morty:
Anyatka snaps, “Aeron, son of Arithorn. And you?”
Morducai touches the bracelet, appears unscathed where others were burnt, and makes contact with Aeron. Aeron isn’t amused. Anya’s dismayed that he’s not burned, or at least doesn’t show it. Further proof for her suspicions, if only she could get Aeron to leave her alone when Morty was around.

To Dunstann and Misree:
Cwendlwyn looks over to Dunstann with a smirk. “Cwen,” she corrects him gently. “And aye. Pleasure to see you again,” she says to Dun with a bow of her head. She turns back to Ree shaking her head. “No, I was not referring to your face. Though, I have something for that as well. I refer to the way you’re sitting, favoring your side.”
Cwen knows her shizznit. Though I need to brush up on my herbalism. Did you know nettle tea really does taste a lot like grass? The tingle goes away after you get used to it. Not sure how else to explain it. And dandelion root tea is heavy enough to be very satisfying as a sort of snack. Good stuff.

To Torlach and Eruviel:
Cwendlwyn continues to gaze down at them for a moment before she plasters on a smile. “Of course! This one,” she holds up the plain band, “is my wedding ring from my union with Anidore Resselin. And this one,” she holds up the one with the family crest, “was given me by Arodionn Vallanor, a man I…” she looks down again, the false cheer cracking.
And that doesn’t even include the gold and silver band she wears openly which is not Biramore’s, but the Elf Elodir’s who sailed to the West. Girl’s got a past! Anidore and I agreed their daughter is seven, now, so that will limit her adventuring. Maybe one day Neilia will come sauntering into Bree – will she be more like mum or da?
Anyatka repeats, “Well. You?” She starts to sketch: rolling hills, towering, um, towers.
Sometimes, words fail.
Anyatka nods. “That is what Morty said.” She presses her lips together and adds, “He also said to try not to let him know he’s dead.”
Oopsie daisy, Raen sort of told Aeron he was dead and then Faethril went apeshit. Anya ended up unconscious on a pile of cushions muttering in her sleep as Orchil and Raen watched and discussed their involvement with her fate. The fact that Morty found out about the necklace being from the Barrows and is outraged did no good for Anya’s already fragile feelings. 

To Morty, while telling Raen the sordid tale:
Anyatka looks over at Morty for a moment in silence. “I guessed,” she whispers, blinking as the tears flow slowly. “But it didn’t matter to me.” She looks back at Raen and takes a deep breath to continue.
Re-reading this portion, Morty might have mistaken Anya’s “But it didn’t matter to me” as a flippant dismissal of his curse in her pursuit of ancient artifacts and adventure. It was not. It was her admittance that she guessed from his obsessive concern about the Barrows, his longevity against hope, and his glowy-eye that there was more to him than appeared. It was her admittance that despite the fact he could be a monster and his insistence that she does not, she loved him. Her tears were a mixture of shame that she betrayed his trust by taking the adventure with Teiblanc, horror that he now knew, and fear that he’d never speak to her again. And of course, the classic crying because you’re crying when you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry any more.

Anyatka will continue to sleep-talk for several hours. Several times she will throw her arms up as if defending herself while crying out. Each time ‘Morty’ passes her lips, her eyes open and flash as if Aeron were connecting with her feelings for him. Several times, she whimpers and pleads for the necklace, muttering how ‘he’ needs it for protection.
Ultimately, Anya’s possession is a love story. Faethril, even in the demonic form that she exists in presently, only seeks Aeron’s safety which she tied to the old family heirloom, his necklace. Aeron, though much more sentient than his lover, also rears a much more feral persona whenever Anya is overwhelmed or hurt by her feelings for Morty. Aeron surges forth to protect her, feeling the connection between her and Faethril and seeking to rid her of the pain.

Anya: Hypnotized – ooc

I recall that moment, standing in Bree in front of the Pony’s mailbox, wondering if RP would ever pick up for me. Especially since the past few times I had tried to come back to the server, things fell apart rather quickly. Quality of ideas. Quality of players. It was poor quality on this side of the screen and that. So I was standing. I don’t even know if I had my RP tag on. White or bile yellow. I don’t know. I was just standing there.

Anya was a new toon that I had attempted once or twice before. Her background was slowly formulating, coalescing into something tangible. Dale. Runaway. Sheltered. Shy. 

She was very lost because I was very lost. I couldn’t remember how to do what I was doing, even though the words begged to flow from the tips of my fingers.

And then a man with a scarred face and glossy eye tipped his fopish hat to her as he went to check his mail.

I didn’t even realize the emote was there at first. I’m not sure how long he was standing there and she was standing there. I had her come back to reality out of a daydream (the start of her astute ability to get lost in her own thoughts). And she said hello.

For some reason, this song keeps playing for Anya whenever I think of her. I think back to that moment that invited me back into the world of RP on Landroval. A random RP. A tip of the hat. A startled blush.

And I’m hypnotized.

(skip to 0:45 for the song)

hypnotized by ani difranco

so that’s how you found me
rain falling around me
lookin down at a worm
with a long way to go
and the traffic was hissing by
and i was homesick
and i was high

i was surrounded by a language
in which i could say only hello
and thank you very much
but you spoke so i could understand
and i drew a treasure map on your hand

and you were no picnic
you were no prize
but you had just enough pathos
to keep me hypnotized

the map led to an island
in a sea of store-bought dreams
where soulless singers sang
over beats built by machines

and lovely girls were hovering
above my head like gulls
with their long slender necks
and their delicate skulls

and i was no picnic
i was no prize
but i had just enough sweetness
to keep you hypnotized

so that’s how you found me
rain falling around me
lookin down at a worm
with a long way to go