[sticky entry] Sticky: Contact

Jan. 25th, 2013 11:56 am
forgottenmotley: (OOC)
Hello!

If you'd like to speak to the Fool or his Mun, please leave a comment here! And we'll get back to you as soon as possible.

It's all open though.
forgottenmotley: (Emo Fool)
The weather was nice enough - even for autumn - that the Fool decided to grab a nap in the setting sun, just a barely crescent moon visible in the fading sunlight. He would be up late in the Halloween Night for it was a good time for all sorts of fears.

Normally, he doesn't dream. What sort of dreams would shadows have after all? But tonight - or at least this nap - decides to be different.


They burn witches in daylight because, he was always told, they get their power at night and so they were weakest during the day. The last thing you wanted was for the witch to be able to make a last minute break for freedom. This day they were burning three witches, at high noon, in the middle of the town square where the sunlight could shine right on them.

The witches were three women, nearly identical with once long silky brown hair and honey colored eyes. They told fortunes and that made them witches, didn't it? That's what the mayor said. And the Mayor had to be right. The women didn't struggle.

But the man who came to free them did. Dressed in tattered motley he managed to slip pass their guards and would have gotten them out if the mayor didn't catch him. He, the mayor declared, was to be hanged at the same time as the witches.

The Fool frowned at this. He remembered it. He could still feel the rope around his neck tightening and strangling him as he fought for life. He didn't want to go back to the blackness of shadows. He could see them as everything else faded away, standing calmly - though they were covered in water and tightly tied to the stake, the flames licking at them. Slowly.

Just so slowly.

They weren't screaming.

He could hear screaming.

In the distance, in the shadows, the Thief in the Night screamed and was held back by the Wanderer.

His Fate was burning too.

There were no shadows to protect them.

They had no way to get free.

And then he was gone.

But still... why? He could still see them burning. But not from the scaffolding, the rope scratching and creaking. He was... in the crowd?

In the shadows. He didn't remember this. He had no mind then. No thoughts. Just flickerings everywhere.

But... he was seeing it.

Why?

How?

The Fool turned away. He didn't want to watch them burn. It was bad enough seeing it once -even part of it - he had no desire to see it twice.

A glint of something caught his eye (how did he have eyes? Wait... he had a body. He was Alexander now, not Gil, Gil hanged there behind him). Bending down he found a crystal eye about the size of an orange. It was smokey in color, sick brown smoke and fit in his palm easily.

The Fates' Eye.

He had his motley, the Thief had his coin, the Wanderer his staff, the Blind King his crown - they all had something that carried their ... selves in it to be passed down from body to body. The Fates had their eye. One eye for three, this eye, passed around to see.

"Shouldn't you be with the Wanderer?" he asked it. "I remember him saying he found you as he found me." Well, he means the motley.

The eye glowed like it did when one of the fates held it. He remembered the blissful look his fate always got when she cupped it in her hands (the Fool had his fate, for he danced on the edges of harm constantly testing it.)

"Silly Fool," a voice whispered in his ear. He turned around to see Elle standing behind him looking live and hale. Her hair was lustrous and he ached to run his fingers through them, "Have you forgotten how to dream?"

"I have. I do not dream."

"And yet you are," she said, taking the eye from his hand. She ran her fingers across the smooth stone, the smokey brown fading to a soft rose color, her favorite color. "My poor silly fool of a man. A Fool with a new face."

The Fool bowed to her. "Yes, I am Alexander now."

"A protector of men, are you?" Elle laughed. "I like your eyes. They're different from the gray."

"Thank you," he said softly and reached out to touch her. He brushed her cheek and it felt warm - properly warm - and soft like he remembered it. "I miss you. It's been too long."

Leaning into his touch, she asked, "Too long for what?"

"Since I've seen you. I miss you, my Fate."

"Time. Yes. I've forgotten how time passes when in a body." She held up her eye and the sunlight flickered in it, casting about tiny spots of light around them. "I will return to you. Soon. Triplets are hard to come by. Triplets who find the Forgotten even more so."

"If you hadn't had died, you wouldn't have this problem." He sounded like a child, he knew it. But he was lonely. For all the friends and companions he met at the Bar, it wasn't the same as being with his Fate. His Fate and he belonged together as surely as the Ashling and Here did. Perhaps not two parts of one, but their lives were forever twined together as he danced a long pushing his luck. They had been together for as long as he could remember. The days when she was gone were the hardest. And she had been gone for far too many days.

"It was my time to die, my precious Fool," she said, holding his hand. "Just as it was your time."

"You could have told me."

She smiled, it was that sad smile she got when she had bad news to pass on. Ori never minded, but she often held the eye to see the Future. "No, I couldn't. You know that."

"You still could have."

This made her laugh and she leaned up against him. It felt so good to have her there, his arm slipping around her waist. He put his nose in his hair, it smelled like jasmine. "No. I couldn't."

The Fool sighed, her hair tickling his nose. "Why are you here?"

"Because I could. You never dream of me."

"I don't dream." He paused and then amended, "Normally."

"That's not my fault."

"I guess not."

"You're going to wake up now," she said, pulling away. He grabbed at her hands, but they passed right through. "Remember... I'll be coming back soon. Look for me while on guard."

"I don't want to wake up, if you leave me."

Elle laughed. "Silly Fool, I've never left you any more than you leave me." She faded away completely, the eye falling from her hands.

It dropped on the Fool's foot.


Yelping the Fool startled awake.

The sun had finally set. The moon barely lit the sky casting deep shadows out everywhere. If it had been a story, he would have found the eye next to him, or his foot would have hurt. Neither happened.

With a groan he rubbed his eyes and muttered, "I need a drink."
forgottenmotley: (Coy)
After the ruckus here, the Fool has limped outside to sit outside in the moonlight. He drops heavily onto the grass and stares up at the sky.

His entire body aches and he's fairly certain that he's getting a nasty bruise on his face. He's surprised that nothing's broken. At least he doesn't think there's anything broken. He touches his face gingerly, hissing in pain. The Fool may be many things but he does wear a human form and that form can get hurt. (And even die, but he's not thinking about that.)

"Well," he says to the bar at large, "That was highly entertaining. I feel like I can sleep for a week or three."
forgottenmotley: (Laughing lying down)
The door opens and the Fool tumbles in. It's fantastic tumble, he rolls backwards and then hops up onto his feet, kicking his hat back onto his head. He shakes himself off like a cat who totally meant to do that and gives a bow.

"My apologies, where were we?" He brightens up and says, "Right. Kissing." Reaching over he grabs Moist does just that.

The room itself is a plain room like anything found at your average motel six. The Fool didn't really think of anything specific beyond a bed and a shower, because what else was needed?
forgottenmotley: (Daydreaming)
A few days passed uneventfully in the lighted lands, Alexander returned to his begging, though he decided to stay away from that particular church. In the Forgotten Caverns, however, things were much more exciting. The Thief in the Night – one of the Blind King’s sons – and the King’s brother, the Ashling, had arrived within a day of each other. The petty thieves of the Forgotten were doing good business with Thief’s appearance and blessings, but tempers ran high with the Ashling about. While the Blind King, the Traveler had told Alexander, was the fear of death made real, the Ashling was passion and the burning heat of the flame. How they were brothers, no one knew, but perhaps because they claimed to come from the same fears at the same time.

Fortunately, the Ashling’s attentions and energies were directed at one of the
Guardians of the Ways

“Come, Here,” he beckoned, a gray hand, like the smoke of the fires, reaching out to the Guardian. Here looked up from where he sat with his brother There, eating a chicken leg. Today they were dressed as soldiers of the Queen, complete with rifles and swords; though they didn’t wear the funny helmets which would have covered their unnaturally bright red hair.

“Why should I?” Here asked, lazily tearing off a piece of meat and chewing on it slowly. There rolled his eyes.

“Because I asked you to,” the Ashling answered.

Standing up slowly, Here tossed the bone into the fire, perhaps as an offering, and sauntered over to him. He remained out of grabbing distance, his emerald eyes glinting in the firelight, looking like the Spring fields under a setting sun.

“You ask for me, but why do you want me? What do you wish of me?” Her circled the Ashling, keeping himself out of reach.

“I wish to hold you.”

“You’ve missed me?”

“I have.”

“I’ve been on the Ways; you would have me neglect my duties to satisfy you?”

“I travel the Ways; you could have met me there.”

“The Fire Ways are not my Ways.” Here said, still circling, but a tiny bit closer now.

“They intersect. There are crossroads. You could have met me there.” The Ashling’s smoky arm reached out and caught Here’s wrist, tugging at him. The Guardian stopped his circling, but did not move closer.

“I could not. I was on duty. Even at a crossroad; especially at a crossroads where things lay in wait. Things like yourself.”

“Are you on duty now? Here in the Blind King’s caverns? Here under the safety of my brother?”

“I am not.”

“Then here you may come to me. There is no reason to worry-- I will not scortch you here. I can keep you safe and warm.” He tugged again and this time Here allowed himself to be pulled close. The Ashling’s arms wrapped around him as he gave Here a passionate kiss. Here returned it, fingers tangling in the Ashling’s long hair. The fires in the cavern leapt nearly to the ceiling before down much hotter than before.

There snorted and returned to his dinner. Rhys leaned over to Alexander and There, saying, “It’s the same thing every time, isn’t it? Always the same song and dance.”

“Then why do they do it? Is it a game?” Alexander asked.

“It’s a ritual,” There said. “Here is the safety of home, before the start of your journey. The fires of home must be tamed so they do not burn those that you leave behind but instead provide warmth and light. That’s why the Ashling must court Here, and promise Here safety, that he may dwell here without fear.”

“It’s also because the Ashling enjoys making a spectacle of it and your brother indulges him too much. They do not need to do this in front of the entire cavern,” the Traveler growled.

There said, laughing, “They’ve been doing it for nearly forever, since the Ways were made and the Forgotten taken shelter in the darkness. Why would they stop now?”

Looking at the two lovers who had backed into a shadow so Alexander couldn’t see them any more – though clearly the Traveler could -- he shook his head, “I have no idea, but I weary of their noise.” He stood up, pulling his mossy cape around him. “Will you join me?” he asked There. “You can tell me what you’ve seen on the Ways.”

“Of course.” He dumped the remains of his dinner in the fire before getting to his feet. “It’s almost daylight Orphan Alex, Perhaps you should get your cup and go see the sunrise.”

Taking the hint, Alexander nodded. He waited until they were away from him, talking quietly, before taking up his cup and crutch and walking towards the slope to the Light. Others had taken the hint as well. Now it was time for the Named to rule and do what was needful. The mortals must go and earn their keep. Alexander often wondered, though, that if he were mortal, why didn’t he age like the others did?
forgottenmotley: (Top Hat Fool)
Not this Fool, mind you, but the one before him.



It smelled like hog piss and slop. Even though the real pigs were outside, it still stunk to sky. It would be forever until he got the smell out of his clothes and then some before he got it out of his skin. But he found them, the three of them locked away inside the mayor’s hog house. They didn’t even get the decency of a real room for their last night. The walls were made of splintered oak that held fast and the door had an iron lock on it. That was okay, he could pick locks.

He could do this.

As quietly as he could, he knocked on the door. “Psst!”

“Theodore?” a tremulous feminine voice called out. She was tired, but she didn’t sound scared. He didn’t doubt it. Why would one of the Fates be scared? “Is that you?”

“Sorry, Ori, dove, not him.”

“Gil! You idiot!” A second woman’s voice snapped out into the darkness. The other women hushed her quickly.

He laughed and bells rang as he did so. “Fool, Elle, please, get your terms right.”

“You stupid foolish man, what are you doing here?” Elle said. Her face appeared in the small iron grated window. He gave her a smile and managed to keep it on as well, despite the fact that she had obviously been beaten. Her lovely long brown hair had been shorn short; he could see bruises on her dusky skin, a large one around her honey brown eyes. All three of them looked like that, he could see now, peering into through the bars. At least they were allowed to wear a simple shift to protect their modesty. Though a sack would have given them more dignity than that which they wore. Rachel, all the way in the corner, didn’t look well at all. From the way she cradled her arm, he thought it might be broken.

“Rescuing you.”

“Fool!” she hissed again.

“Yes, dear?” He smiled at her cheerfully. He kept the smile on, even though he didn’t feel it. This was no place for a Fool, even though only a Fool would try such a thing. He’d managed to slip by the guards, but he didn’t know how long his luck would hold out. He was bending it as much as possible just to get inside.

“Where’s the Thief?” Ori asked, pushing her sister out of the way to look around. “Where’s Theodore?”

He ducked his head, not wanting to meet her eyes. Instead he pulled out his lock picks and started work on the lock. It was a heavy thing, made of iron and nearly rusted together. “I sent message down the Ways with There. I don’t know when he’ll get here though. Soon. I’m sure he’ll get here soon,” he mumbled.

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” Ella hissed, having reclaimed the window. “This is a job for the Thief, not the Fool.”

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he looked up and glowered at her. “It maybe that the Thief in the Night is the one to steal you away, but only a Fool would try and take you!”

Looking back with just an equally angry glower, Ella said, “You … there’s a Shinning One here! He has the mayor’s ear! You don’t think he - “ she let out a gasp, her eyes widening and she pulled away from the window. He never her saw her look so afraid before.

Turning, he saw a man. A man shaped thing behind him. The man was only slightly portly but very drunk and very angry. The man shaped thing wore a wicked sharp smile on his face. The Weyland Smith’s never dull swords looked like spoons compared to the thing’s smile. It was the thing that spoke and his words were of honey and silk. He couldn’t hear the words, they were not for the likes of the Forgotten to hear, but the man did and the anger stirred to fury and then blossomed into rage.

“You dare come in like a thief in the night to break these criminals - these witches - out of jail?” the man cried out. “You deserve to be with them! You shall be hung for your crimes!”

The words shocked him and it took him a moment to find his voice. “Hang? Me? You must jest. I come to see my wife and I find her imprisoned with pigs! Any real man would do what I am doing to rescue their wife!” But the words weren’t coming easily. He could barely hear the bells as he spoke. The Shinning thing’s smile broadened as he spoke again. The man - the mayor he supposed - listened.

He felt Ella’s hand on his head, just barely stroking his neck and running her fingers through his hair. They trembled only in the slightest, and he knew what that meant. The three of them knew their fate was to be burned at dawn. But he wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t stand for it. He would rather be hanged than let it happen. Stepping forward he drew his sword from the walking stick he used and advanced.

“You will let them free!” he cried out. It was a brave cry. And he didn’t know what happened next beyond his luck running out. The Shinning Thing gestured and his feet refused to follow his commands. The mayor easily took him down with a well placed punch that he didn’t even see coming and with a few shouts, guards came and wrestled him into submission.

They took his hat, they took the stick... and... and they took his coat. He could hear the bells fading as he lost consciousness... or was it Ella crying? He couldn’t tell.
forgottenmotley: (Top Hat Fool)
Who are the Forgotten?

And I don't mean the homeless lost lives that live with them. They are merely forgotten, as opposed to The Forgotten. A big difference, you see.

The Forgotten are the things that live in darkness. The things that man created with their fears. Fear of death, the unknown, fire, passion, fate, the future, murder, thieves. Primal fears found and created when fire was untamed.

The Named Forgotten, the oldest, are very old. The newer ones can actually count how many centuries they've been alive.

The Blind King is the fear of death. The Ashling the fear of fire and passion. The Traveler the fear of the Unknown. But he doesn't travel much any more. He used to be the Lord of the Wilds and of the Hunt. If you look closely you can see the horns of a stag.

No one looks closely at the Ashling or the Blind King.

The Thief in the Night is the Blind King's son. The ultimate thief, he was reborn recently... if six hundred years is recent.

There is Here and There, a pair of twins who guard the Ways of the Forgotten. There and the Traveler are friendly together. For when you went there, you went to the unknown. Here and the Ashling are quite friendly as well. Here must tame the fires and make home, here, safe.

Every time they meet again, it is like a peacock showing off to peahen. Or so the Traveler tells me.

Here and There have been around since there were roads to travel.

The Fool, myself, has been around a long while. I've just changed faces. Much like the Piper or others of the folktales, as people change, we do too.

I'm just the latest in a long line of Motley Fools.

And that's just a bit about us.

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forgottenmotley: (Default)
The Fool (Sometimes called Alexander)

January 2013

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