A short little thing that appeared this weekend to share…
A Pause before Writing Once More
There is a place in the Realm, one that is quiet, thoughtful, and, occasionally, is inspiring. Some would think it was the Fountains of Passion, or the Lake of Fire. Others, like Miriam, would suggest the Library of the Realm would be a good choice as well.
For Tera it was each of those in its own ways. The stories that floated around them all, in the fabric of all of their existence, were calling to her every day. The problem was that, for Tera, it wasn’t a question of writing a story. No, the problem was writing a story that would, somehow, tell of each place in the right way with the right words …
And yes, Tera had problems with that because she was a perfectionist and really never could allow herself to see that what she wrote was the right thing in the right way. She was—and she did admit this to a very few—aware of that problem. But there wasn’t a lot that she could do about it. After all, the problem was between her horns and, being the stubborn Queen of the Succubi she was, that was going to take a lot to change.
Still, there was inspiration in the Realm, and, even though she couldn’t bring herself to write as much as she wanted to … The inspiration would be there waiting for her.
The thing of it was … she was tired. It had been some time since she had managed to tell of the Realm in the way that she wanted to because of many things that got in the way of her telling a story.
There were, of course, the things that all Queens must do, or believe they must do, or do because they feel they must. Tera wasn’t immune from that and so she did what was expected, what she thought was expected, and what she believed was expected. The problem was, of course, that the doing took away from the telling, and that was a dilemma for her. Because telling of her Realm, of those she called family, of the beliefs she had, meant quite a lot to her.
As such, while she did smile and was herself, the smile was a little bit tired, her tail was a little bit less perky, and, if you really looked at her, it was clear that she was just that little bit not quite herself.
At the end of a long, long day, Tera found that all of the things to be done were, all of the expectations were met, and there was time … time for once to go off to that place where she could, possibly, find a tale to tell in the place that inspired her.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t have before if she pushed aside the needs of others, which she wouldn’t. It wasn’t that she couldn’t have ignored the requests as well, something that would have never crossed her mind, either. The thing of it was she put others before herself because that was who she was … and it mattered to her that she did so.
So she went into the little out of the way room in her home where she sat down and wrote about things when she could and gathered the two things there she hadn’t seen or touched in what seemed to be ages: a simple red pen—what other color could it be for one of the Succubi—and a little notepad with redlines upon it (again, what would you expect it to be?). They were a bit worn on the edges, the pen nibbled on the end, the notepad’s pages dog-eared, of course, for how long Tera had owned them both? Well, to say how long would be telling … but they had been with her for a very, very long time indeed.
Picking them up, she brushed a hand through her hair, kissed her Eternal lovingly, and then went out into the Realm towards the place she wanted to be.
She didn’t make it three steps out her door when a young Succubi and Incubi ran up to her and asked for advice about … well, it wouldn’t be polite to tell what they wanted, would it now? But Tera smiled, found that the joy of the two made her happy, and, of course, she spent some time talking to them both. Before the two left, the Incubi asked, “Tera? What is that you are carrying?”
She looked at her pen and the notepad and considered what the answer was. A pen? A notepad? Well they were that, but they were more than that too. To explain that they were, in a way, a portal would have been confusing. The young didn’t use things like Tera did anymore. Their notebooks or tablets or other things were digital, and were magical in their own way, but didn’t quite allow the words that came from within to be without exactly right.
The answer she gave was one of her riddles: “Understanding.”
Then she hugged them both, wished them well, and made her way … along the path from her home to the trails nearby … through them to the gold cobblestone walkways that traced through the core of the Realm and then beyond … up into the hills that overlook her homeland until, finally, she came to the spot that she hadn’t visited in so very long …
It was rolling field of grass on the top of one of those hills where, if you rested there at just the right spot, which Tera knew, would give you a view of the Realm in its entirety. But this time she found waiting there for her two things … well, three, really. One was a cup of tea, freshly brewed and exactly the right temperature. The other was a piece of apple pie, just out of the oven, the smell of it divine in the breeze.
And there, beside the two gifts was a little card.
She opened the card and looked inside to see a message that meant everything to her and always would: Refresh yourself, Dear One, and when you have your story, I will be waiting by the fence. –Your Heart
Tera settled in beside the gifts, placing her notepad and pen there beside her. She sipped the tea, grateful for what was shared, and watched the milling of the Realm below her. A bit of the apple pie, and she looked towards the Lake and watched the Tails playing there … a bit more tea, and now a look at the Library to see Miriam there, which brought a smile to Tera as it always did … some more tea, and she watched the AngelKitties fluttering around their mountains, playing and cavorting about.
She found her mood lighter, her tail a bit more perky. There was a warmth within her not just from the tea and pie, but knowing that whatever she wrote, whatever came from her fingers, would be something to share with her Heart, and, most of all, that it would be something …
She finished her tea, putting the cup on the grass beside her, the plate and fork from the apple pie carefully set there, too. A moment later, and she held her pen in one hand and the pad she knew so well in the other. Looking over the Realm, she gathered her thoughts, shook out her tail and, with a smile, no longer tired, called out to the world around her …
“Tell me a story …”