Yellow.<\/p>\n
Do we use a changed child?\u00a0 He would not like a child, I think.\u00a0 He would not be ruled by the urge to mate, sensuously.\u00a0 I like curls. Yellow. Here, this art will do to clothe it.\u00a0 Her. A\u00a0 woman.\u00a0 Tall.\u00a0 Tall means to take attention.\u00a0 She should have a pretty voice.\u00a0 Do not give her the voice of a siren as it distracts from the message.\u00a0 I want green eyes.\u00a0 Take them, then, but she will wear all of ours, depending on which of us holds her hand.\u00a0 Skin of gold? Skin of fair, or Angharad will be jealous, but weave gold into her hair.\u00a0 I like curls.\u00a0 But does he?<\/p>\n
Amber.\u00a0 Saffron.\u00a0 The shield of yew.<\/p>\n
Are you sure he’s the one? The Shadow would fight a mage, and taste a mortal. This one walks between worlds. A man on the threshold, but not a trickster? He sees, but does not have to touch, he wants, but not too much.\u00a0 A trickster thirsts for change.<\/p>\n
Goldenrod.\u00a0 The ochre pelt of lions.<\/p>\n
I wonder if he likes the taste of daisies. Should she unfold, she can taste of cobwebs and the reddest stolen cherries.\u00a0 I would have her spin the moon into quiet dreams.\u00a0 She will smell of meadows and orchards, of wind, and rain, and coloured birds.\u00a0 But our lord’s tastes are for brimstone and leather, my love.<\/p>\n
Daffodil for the arts.<\/p>\n
Draw salt into her bones, and silver into her blood, silk to the touch, and gold unto her hood.\u00a0 Paint her pretty parts the pink of petals, and have her dance upon a pin, give her seldom laughter for it ill benefits a man.<\/p>\n
Lemons and mustard, maize and cream.<\/p>\n
Silly rhymer.\u00a0 Would you name her?<\/p>\n
No, to name her would be dolose.<\/p>\n
A heart of ice, a tongue of dirt?\u00a0 She is a force for this world, give her gifts in three times three.<\/p>\n
She shall be Guide once, to a land unafraid of steel.<\/p>\n
She will be Guardian twice, once to protect, once to guard the gate.<\/p>\n
She will be able to learn fear, but not have it attract or repel her.<\/p>\n
She will know the tongues of those she meets, and when told secrets, those she keeps.<\/p>\n
Canary.<\/p>\n
She should be able to dance and move like serpent and sparrow, ox and eagle, otter and silly-nilly porcupine.<\/p>\n
She will draw a lake from a drop of rain, and with swift glamour, back again.<\/p>\n
She should be able to ride the steeds of this world, though they be iron or black smoke, and swiftly, as if she had wings.<\/p>\n
She should learn quickly that which is taught in good faith.<\/p>\n
She should sit where and as a cat sits, and always spot our kind.<\/p>\n
I want her to have curls.\u00a0 Behave, fractious child!<\/p>\n
We have our three times three, our nine to the world and so it be.<\/p>\n
But in undoing her, how shall we weave?\u00a0 Perilous fate and dungeons for the overbold?\u00a0 Silence and the holly king’s yearly sacrifice, should she melt to flowers, or freeze to ice?\u00a0 A maiden shall she fall?\u00a0 Or to borrow our friend’s verses, not at all.\u00a0 She can go in battle, or by neglect.\u00a0 A breach in Hospitality?<\/p>\n
Sunglow.<\/p>\n
She’s a pretty poppet, and see her curls?\u00a0 A bit fairer than asked for, but that’s true of all girls.<\/p>\n
Speak for us, poppet, and give us your name.<\/p>\n
“I do not know my name.”<\/p>\n
Your troth in this?\u00a0 For we did not give her the gift of true speech.\u00a0 We could speak as her in need, but I fair like the idea of the challenge of her finding her own words.\u00a0 Find the healer, pretty thing.\u00a0 The one who sutures the worlds with silver string.<\/p>\n
Straw.\u00a0 Icterine.<\/p>\n
The doctor.\u00a0 They call him a doctor.<\/p>\n
“And when I find this man?”<\/p>\n
He is mortal, he will do.\u00a0 We have a Shadow at our gate, and he seeks souls for battle.\u00a0 I would tell you more but it is not mine to tattle.<\/p>\n
“What is he like?”<\/p>\n
What does it matter?\u00a0 He is mortal and he fits our diviners survey.\u00a0 He speaks no poetry, sings no songs, but has an edge of the light anyway.\u00a0 No stolen child, he.\u00a0\u00a0 Our fair Thomas once spoke of him.\u00a0 Do not get weepy over tragic Thomas. We remember one mortal’s name why not another?<\/p>\n
Fulvous.<\/p>\n
“Am I to be with him?”<\/p>\n
Do not eat him.\u00a0 But mortal flesh has its own rewards, however you try it.\u00a0\u00a0 Have you tried mince pies from youngling’s thighs?\u00a0 Mad mad Thomas, he would only ally with our Shadow thing, our Shadow King.<\/p>\n
Ecru.<\/p>\n
“Why will the doctor do what we ask?”<\/p>\n
Because we will kill him if he does not?\u00a0 The idea of incentive has reached the wild lands, so why do you insist that it is only on point of the knife that one should choose?\u00a0 Old pleasures die hard.\u00a0 We will gift him.\u00a0 No, we will give him a boon.<\/p>\n
Beware Peredur.\u00a0 The red of the gold goblet, the shadow at sun’s height.\u00a0 He wakens.<\/p>\n
“Is that my lord?”<\/p>\n
Apricot.<\/p>\n
His breath brought life to you, but it is made of thorn and ashes.\u00a0 Do not ask to be pricked upon the blackthorn’s tip, or for you who reminds him of his fair, you may lose more than your maidenhead. [much shared laughter]<\/p>\n
Shush.\u00a0 Hush like the blanket of clover.\u00a0 Our Realm here should be turned to the mortal’s world, tuned like an instrument to play its game like a tale.\u00a0 Isabelline, draw the Court’s eyes and see as our poppet sees.\u00a0 Gelsey, draw open the bridge.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Oren, music to soothe our lord so he does not see the beauty in what we have wrought and desire it before it comes into its own.<\/p>\n
“But what is my name?”<\/p>\n
Ill luck to name you.\u00a0 You are no child born, no woman of real flesh.\u00a0 You are our tool, magnificent in gift until we have need of our component pieces.<\/p>\n
“Then ill luck I shall be named.\u00a0 Doloise Mallory.”<\/p>\n
Dandelion.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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