Okay, this blog has confiscated by the Queen of the Unknown, Mr. Jael Merripen (hey, if Ambrosia is a Kingdom ruled by a Prince, then my little domicile can be ruled by a male queen!!!!!!) All of you just go about your business, oblivious as usual to what is stirring right under you noses, beneath the thin skin of reality. Yup. Don't mind those eyes staring at you from under the bed, or that flash of movement you see out of the corner of your eye. It's nothing. Not demons waiting to pounce and devour you or nothing. Nope. Don't think you heard anything in the other room or anything. Best you don't go "check it out."

Ah my, this keyboard is a trial. Give me the quill of any large fowl that takes its route over the Unknown and a jar of dark red ink any day. Even the feather of a poppinjay's own angel wings would work better (but they do so hurt when I pluck them!)

I would like to say, I do at times miss the olden days. When I lived outside of this stagnant wasteland and was able to stalk Dreamkins like the most pompous game, training with dear old Asean, cursing the damned Goddess for her games and wondering where in the bloody world that Pearl went to. Now my days are spent feasting on fungus, drinking Unknown wine (the secret ingredient is fungus!) and oh yes, planning my revenge on everything! Bwa-ha-ha-ha!

Oh I am so glad I got in a bout of manic laughter! Now let's see, what other villain-y stereotypes I can evoke. Obviously this all stems from my relationship with my mother. We all have mother-issues, don't we? Especially those of us born with half a soul. Do you know what a pain that is? Literally - it hurts! So much so that as a baby I just cried and cried. Add to that the fact that the soul is in a constant search for wholeness, and so whenever it comes in contact with another, it pulls and pulls, trying to make itself whole again. Well, that's a great relief to me, but rather a reflexive problem for the person I am touching. So yes, mother dear and I did not have the closeness usually associated with such a relationship.

I also hate my brother. Mainly because he's perfect in every way - right down to having not only both halves of his soul in-tact, but in the fact that he is what I was meant to be - a DreamKin. Oh yes, he is able to change fully into a cute little puppy, a noble owl or a fearsome warhorse just by melting into its form like a showy young pile of black goo. Bastard.

And let us not talk about my stepfather. Bad things happened to him, and I can't say I have any regrets that he was made of a meat found to be a delicacy by demons.

But as I stated, that was a long time agone. (Ooh think I just made a new word! Agone - how olde tyme does that sound? Very fanciful and nice, I think I shall use it again in the future.) I am over my whole feeding-families-to-demons phase. Now I'm really just trying to get a little relief while enjoying the quiet solitude of my confinement. Is there anything wrong with enlisting an underground army of the young in order to put the Whorld back the way it was before we all got here? Very noble if you ask me, to be loyal to those that have come before. To recall the days when good old Nyuben was creating the place I now call home, while his annoyingly immaculate brother brought into creation that stupid forest. What was he thinking!? A forest that isn't really a forest, that brings magic to this land from another? Well of course you are going to have people learn to use magic for their own gain - its in their survival nature to do so. Anyway, he's the one that screwed it all up. That darn Nickabar. Id love to have a drink with Nyuben; I think we'd have a lot in comon. If only he wasn't so dead.

Anyway, must tootle off now. Things to do, people to harass, children to intimidate, moldy wine to drink. Oh, one last thing; I have a feeling that someone, perhaps a girl-someone, perhaps in the possession of that Pearl I spoke of earlier, may be coming to try and rain on my parade. Please, if you happen to see her, try your best to detain her. I have a lot riding on this, and the last thing I need is some curly-haired fifteen year old other-worlder stumbling around with some sort of oracle of the Goddess coming in and falling in love with me or something. Would muck up the whole system.

Blowing you all Kisses (except any woodsmen out there - you get a big crackly hug!)

~ Jael M.