A Softer side

Recently I was given some very traditional black leather and whips dominatrix type items to blog. I started taking pictures and I was not very happy with the results, as they looked like most every picture I had seen of that kind. I tried several set of pictures and finally showed a friends what I come up with and their comment was typical.  They said it was rare to see the female Dom as anything but that.  This is not a community that I am all that familiar with, but decided to give it a shot.

Her Pet, A feminine take of a female Dom.
Her Pet- ©Acacia Rose 2017

My friend was thrilled. I spoke with the designer and she liked this one better than any of the shots that I had created with her items, it gave her ideas for future items, which I look forward to seeing.

And because I love the outfit and it does not show well in the picture.

Tish

Shirt: .sass. teez scoop neck [grey tones]
Shoes and Socks: (*<*) 1313 Looking Glass Slippers w/Stockings – Wicked Cheshire
Skirt: (*<*) 1313 Tish Skirt – Sugar
Model: Acacia Rose
Mesh Body: Lara by Maitreya
Skin:Seven Deadly Skins Taupe
Hair:TRUTH HAIR – Foxy – light blondes
Prop: Boudoir Garden -Garden Slave Birdcage
Special effects:
Pose:
Sim: My home in Never Never

 

©Acacia Rose 2017

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The Importance of Communication

Last night I encountered a situation of hand waving frustration on the part of multiple people.  Everyone was trying to do the right thing, and no one was being an asshole intentionally.  That being said, a lack of communication led to people feeling frustrated.

We have gone from having too few things going on to stepping on each others toes.

We have a large number of different groups, all with the purpose of communicating, but most of what happened last night was not communicated in any of them. There were assumptions that others would know and understand what we were doing.  I would say that the resulting frustration was a sign that this was not the case.

The question I have for everyone, is where is the best place to communicate?  I do not think that I can think of a single place where all the leaders of events, roleplay and storyline are all in one place.  I will be posting this in multiple places today, hoping to get some agreement on where is the best places are.

That being said, I also think that sharing what roleplays you are running and your intentions are is also helpful.  If we put the energy into communicating that we put into dealing with the results of lack of communication, good things would result.

For this week, I have the Lundene run into the Deeproads, Setting up a fae/Syvharan run (note, this does not have to be me leading it), More roleplay on the Blackmarket and Helping with the Hildi-Pretty pooh factory. Plus some roleplay for my own enjoyment and building.

 

Healing the Fox

Aerea : move slowly as the fox was very heavy. “Queen Acacia, I found you at last. Can you help this fox, he fell onto some sharp rocks, his roots are not as good a climbing as mine.”

Acacia: leans over and reaches out her hand to take the tiny fox kit from the dryad , biting her lip to keep from smiling as the fox kit was very close in size to the tiny dryad. “Here, let me see him” As she had been meditating on her element of water from the bee garden, seeing if distance from the element made a difference, she was open to her element.

Aerea: lifted the kit onto Acacia’s out stretched hands, stepping back to let the Queen do her stuff.

Acacia: Lifting the tiny kit, she could see some tiny cuts on the tender pads of the kit.She spoke in fae *homer hufl hogat* and a gentle stream of water came from her hand to cleanse the cuts. They were not serious, but would be very painful for the tiny fox to walk on. releasing her conection with the element of water with a whispered thank you,  She reached out for the element of fire,  finding it, feel her pulse quicken, speaking in fae once more *rwulqude ruci, bacurv olg miow* focusing on purifying and curing the tiny cuts.  The kit wriggled on her palm, yipping that it tickled.

Aerea gasped surprised by the flames that has surrounded the foxes feet. “are they going to burn him?” stepping back with an instinctive fear of all fire.

Acacia Thanking the lord of Fire, she broke the connection when the flame shifted from healing to tickling. “There you go little one” as the fox tried to lick her face and tumbled to land at her feet, bouncing right back up to look at Aerea with bright eyes.  “No, the elements know what they are doing far more than I. But he is all better, go run and play. ”

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A matter of priorities.

snapshot_730As night began to fall, Acacia spirals down to land on the icy mountain side. It was a good place to study the undead and learn their patterns. The fae guard had been patrolling and watching on the shore of Anar as they protected their home. The pattern thus far had been that a small group headed each night for Anar, walking into the water and heading under it making their slow way across the river bottom, As the dawn broke each morning they had turned back. Each day they had made progress, finding faster routes over the stones and deep trenches. The guard had reported to her the movements that they had noted and they seemed mainly focused on heading into Sylvhara.

Standing in the chill waters that welled up from deep with in the mountain, she watched, studying them closely. Malada had warned that the obelisk had started to throw lightening a well. Undead skeletons, Could this be Eccho up to some new trick? People kept suggesting Dinnin, but he employed demons for his tasks, as well as offering to help with them for a price. Whoever it was, there was a reason, and there had to be a solution. She knew that the rangers and others had held the line, and at great cost.

The icy water rushed past her ankles, as she studied them looking for a pattern. Her stomach turned as she studied these animated bits of death. It was the signs of their life that made them so repugnant to her. She stilled her winds as she felt them fluttering with the the urge to be gone from here, These skeletons were different than the ones she had fought in Anurum. It was the bits of clothing and flesh that clung to their bones, it was clear that they had once been living and were now dead. The other difference she noted was the eyes. They glowed green, something about the color tugged at her thoughts but she just could not place it.

Serendipityes trilled as a skeletal hand grasped the edge of the rock face. Acacia intent on studies of the ruins and the monolith, did not look up but merely responded “hmmm?” Serendipityes flew into her line of sight, “Undead, here now!”  Acacia looked to where she pointed, pulling on the weave a purple glow surrounding her as she pulled strongly, focusing on the skeletal warrior who hand pulled himself over the cliff face and was headed her way.  The sword caught the last light of the setting sun, causing it to flash a dull red, broken by the patched of rust and nicks that  covered the blade. The blade had areas of blackness as if it had been burned. What she had heard flashed through her mind in a split second, they had burned them, yet they just kept coming. The chilly water she stood in, swirled around her legs, The current seeming stronger, as if the water itself wishes to fight this undead being.  Before it could bring its sword to a ready stance, Acacia comanded in a clear voice, “Eilimint na Cruinne, ordaímse duit, Tabhair amach as an cloch sin a mhian liom.” (Element of water, I command you, freeze and dance your tiny flowers about us). It was one of the first spells she had learned, and the water lept to do her bidding,  a squall of snow and ice rising from the water and rushing to surround the warrior in a binding wall of snow, as ice slowly formed over the bones and rotting flesh that made his creature. She heard Sere’s shout of “Another comes, there are several  of them”  She had not brought her bow or staff, and the crystal dagger she wore seemed useless. Acacia lifted from the ground and took flight, moving out from the cliff face and she continued to pour mana from the weave into the ice storm. As she flew, one of the skeletons swung his sword and managed to strike a glancing blow on her leg.  The undead warriors turned and moved to the edge of the cliff, all of their green eyes turned to her. The ice of the storm grew thick on them, freezing them into place.

From her airborn vantage, she kept pouring power into the spell until the ice was thick and growing opaque. They had never scaled the cliffs before, but yet they had come after her.  Looking down, she looked where the others far below were headed, Along each path was a place of Magic, nodding to herself as she lifted further, This was something they would have to deal with at the root of the problem. Fighting them by herself would be a waste of effort for the best she could hope would be to slow the tide, not stop it. The monolith had to be removed, and that would require all working together.

It was a matter of priorities, First the Illithid and then this. With a nod to Sere to follow, she headed home to Anar.

 

 

A matter of rules.

A Sonnet is a poem of an expressive thought or idea made up of 14 lines, each being 10 syllables long. Its rhymes are arranged according to one of the schemes – Italian, where eight lines called an octave consisting of two quatrains which normally open the poem as the question are followed by six lines called a sestet that are the answer, or the more common English which is three quatrains followed by a rhyming couplet.

I have been feeling rather philosophical about rules. I tend to think of them as the frame work on which we create our artwork, but lately I have been thinking of them more in terms of creating a Sonnet. You have a set of rules that must be followed or it is not a Sonnet. Within the structure of those rules, you have absolute freedom to do what you will, and it is still a sonnet. Others will either like or dislike it, but all know it to be a Sonnet.  When you do not follow the rules, it can still be a poem, but it is not a Sonnet.

I have been feeling lately like I was told that we are all here to write Sonnets. I was made to learn the rules, and when I tried to bend or push them, I was told no. We only allow Sonnets.   Now, I find that I am still feeling constrained to write Sonnets, while others get to write Haiku and other still get to write freeform verse with no rules at all.

There is a bit of frustration that comes when it get hard to write a Sonnet, when you see how easy it is to write a haiku in comparison, and people tell you to ignore those writing free form as no one respects them anyway.  Yet, there they are shouting free form verse as you are quietly trying to write your Sonnet.

I have been trying to be more accepting of the fact that perhaps we are all writing poetry. However, when we are creating a group piece, and three people are writing Haiku, someone else is doing only rhyming couplets, and our loner shouting their free form verse, It makes it impossible for me to do what I set out to do, write a Sonnet.

Why is it that they have to be allowed to write their poetry because otherwise they will not have fun?  Why is their fun more important than my ability to have fun?