Ladies & Gents,

I regret to inform the Cities of Boston and Hartfords and their relevant citizenry and cam-based games that I will not be attending you this weekend.

This weekend in fact; I will be happily attending the nuptials of one Robin Schlimgen and Scott Perron.

Affectionately,

GGM

I sit quietly in my study; letting the vapors of the mint tea waft over my senses as I close my eyes and find my consciousness within the glade. I turn and see Shayndel and Sundance talking; I hail them both and smile. Smile truly, for we are safe, for they are safe. It is then that Sundance takes in my transformation and he greets me ( Read more... )

Dylan walks through the courtyard of Caer Gwanwyn, smiling to those Chimera who are staying behind and clapping Sundance on the shoulder. His posture is careful and confident until he is alone atop a parapet looking out to the sea. A familiar rock just out into the horizon. It is then that he feels her presence behind him ( Read more... )

Dear Mom & Dad ( Read more... )

A figure emerges from the morning mist, wearing dark blue windpants and a white t-shirt, his bare feet pounding the sand outside the castle, just out of sight of the spire.

Have I not served you faithfully? Not shared your every whim with those who were not cursed with the Sight? Did I not give your favor to those worthy? Did I not bless ( Read more... )

Curran, Serene, and I stand by the wood stove when Mordred leaps out of her shadow and starts to ravage a hidden form. In the blink of an eye, Serene has her pistol trained on him and Curran has drawn his sword, while I already have an arrow nocked and aimed.

Sammy, where are you?With the first draw of glamour, the shape reveals itself and I ( Read more... )

The drive back to Boston is silent. I'm curled up in the backseat of Shay's Mini Cooper; Logan is giving her directions to avoid the traffic; but other than "Next Exit" it's silent. There is no soft french singing. No soft swish of feathers. There is only quiet.

My shoulders are bare. My lap is empty.

Charmayne...Forgive me

( Read more... )

Dylan's sweat stained skin glistens in the firelight; his eyes transfixed on the fire. As he sits staring into it's depths, the flames become a brilliant crimson. It burns hotter, faster, turning first yellow, than stark white; and finally black at it's core with yellow flickers radiating from it, licking the air as though tasting for him. A ( Read more... )

The ever present snow blankets the grounds outside Balagwyrd, pure and untouched from the night's fall. Dylan steps off the wrap around porch of the house, pulling the cloak of red and gold wool closer about him. At his throat, a broach of a gryphon clutching an apple refracts the light reflected by the snow. Beneath he wears warm woolen ( Read more... )

Dylan stands before a gleaming red mustang convertible with silver racing strips, the trunk is open, and he's placing two shields on a stretch of decadently buttery red velvet ( Read more... )