Tuesday, 10 April 2007

Stormy Weather

Dear Virrginia,
I hope you don't mind too much, but me and Terry went off on our own for a little Fey outing to a lovely place Miss Tamura had discovered called Metatheria. In some respects it reminded me of home, although everything was a lot bigger. If you ever get the chance, it would certainly be worth a visit (just don't go left, there were skulls down there...big ones)

And don't take any notice of the creepy whispering voices when you arrive, either. That's just there for the casual tourists who expect these sort of things (I think Terry called it an ambience, whatever one of them is, but it sounded like a lady to me).

Terry was as forthright as usual and boldly led the way into this (to me) undiscovered country. There were lots of very pretty trees and flowers, and a long langorous river and a waterfall and lots of interesting temples, nooks and crannies to climb over and sit in. And mushrooms, of course, this being Fey land (I would have been terribly disappointed if there hadn't been). And a big dragon's nest, which was sadly empty and not as comfortable as you might imagine considering the usual level of comfort most of the dragons I know prefer. Terry looked very funny perching in there, but Burt was too busy hiding in case a big bird came by and tried to eat him, so I didn't get any paintings; he's such a coward sometimes. There were some big birdies, but they had better taste than to go after Brownies (who tend to be a bit stringy and muddy).

The sound of running water was very soothing; swans and ducks dabbled and fish swam in lazy circles beneath the cool blue surface. We wandered over a bridge and found ourselves at the bottom of some very steep steps.

There was a lovely recreational area and a bar up the stairs (Em would have loved it) and that's where we met a Metatherian Sidhe, a very refined lady called Miss Ayres. She was ever so friendly. So were the other nice Sidhe people we met (yes, people! That hadn't all run away before we got there). Made quite a change to have someone else to chat to...

But that was all after we saw the dinky ice palace and I broke the swing. I've been very good lately, and I've hardly got my dust into anything, but there was a storm coming and the breeze was picking up; it must have wafted it into the swing mechanism. I didn't mean to break it, it just sort of, well, happened. Terry thought it was very funny but it was terribly embaressing.

See this was the swing before I tried to sit on it. Terry was having a nice relax and enjoying the flowers. Then:

It sort of got stuck. Still, you had a very good view of the flowers from that angle, although it was a little bit tricky to stay seated. You couldn't see the waterfall anymore though, which was a shame as it was a very magnificent waterfall. And I couldn't get it unstuck again, which was even worse; I do hope that the storm washed all the dust out - I've been too shy to go back and see for myself.

Where did we go then? Oh yes, up to the bar and then over the big, scary rope bridge to where the birdies were. We were looking for the Underground that Miss Ayres had mentioned, but the secret entrance was actually under the bridge and not over it; which makes perfect sense really. Still you never can tell with Fey, they do like to confound your expectations.

The Underground was luminous, with yet more bridges and glowing mushrooms and bridges and flowers. And there was a very pretty swirly thing, though heaven alone knows what it was there for. Mind you, I don't suppose pretty things really need a reason to be; its often more than enough that they simply are.

Terry thought we might enjoy a trip out on one of the boats moored nearby, but the storm was gathering pace and was creating big spouts of water. I know that both of us are pretty waterproof, but that doesn't mean that you go looking to get wet and I get sick if I whizz about too much (which is why I avoid travelling in that confounded bouncing contraption of Oolon's). I do apologise for the quality of the dageurotype - Burt went into hiding again when the spouty thing got too close.

It wasn't long after that the storm hit and what a doozy it was, too. We got a bit lost in the bushes trying to find our way back from the beach, but the branches were going all over the place as the wind picked up. Then I think we got caught in one of the usual storm related dislocations, because both of us found ourselves very unceremoniously dumped back at our respective homes (after a few moments of utter blackness). It's happened a few times lately, but I still can't quite get used to the strength of the Linden winds. We did pop back, but only briefly as it was about then that we received the call to Port Caledon...
Well, better get back to Alfonso; he's running about the Circus with two coconut shells and prancing about in a very alarming manner. I think its something to do with the Rennaisance Faire; at least, that's what he says it is. Hmmmmmm.
Anyway, I look forward to seeing you again soon. You take care and don't work too hard.
Your friend,

1 comment:

virrginia tombola said...

Dear Fuschia,

What a wonderful outing, stormy weather or no. Personally, I do like a bit of a brisk wind--flutters theleaves about and makes one feel alive. Waterspouts perhaps *might* be overdoing it a bit.

Mind you, a lesser woman than myself might lower herself to make some sharp comment about how when only the ladies go forth, a perfectly nice afternoon is had, one completely free of attacks from extradimensional beasties, getting stuck betwixt worlds in the ether whilst the air is running out, or odd talk of removing one's brain and placing in places it really oughten be. But, as I occasionally do try to maintain *some* level of demure deportmant, I shall refrain from making that perfectly obvious point.

I am *quite* jealous of the outing, I must admit. I would even brave the possibility of a less than properly oiled swing to see such a land.

"I don't suppose pretty things really need a reason to be; its often more than enough that they simply are."

Words to live by.

For fanciful and fancy free flights,