So my dear and gorgeous friend has just opened their own shop! Queer and witch owned, focusing (for now) on handmade greeting cards (also witch festival themed!) and planner stickers! She will have a launch around each major holiday/season change. Keep an eye on them, there will be queer themes, all witchy holidays, as well as many, many others for many cultures.
In my last post I dove (or well, dipped my toes) into the history of gender in witchcraft, to see where our thoughts and visions on gender come from. When I was thinking and journaling about gender and witchcraft came the question: does it matter? Does it matter in our magic whether we focus on gender?
For witchcraft and paganism in general I would say yes and no. Yes because we are a path that stands up for the marginalized, and being yourself and being true to yourself is something we value a lot. To know yourself, to truly and fully know who you are as a person, can hold great power. Exploring gender and what this means to you can be a (big) part of that. It can also reveal shadows; suppressed parts of ourselves that often have to do with trauma or pain, that we often have to work through. Standing in your own power with confidence and pride can spring powerful magic. Acknowledging and owning your truths can be super empowering!
So therefore I do think it’s important for women (and I mean all women) to have a space where they can be themselves without the pressure of what society expects from them. A space to talk about the things that concern us, as women. The problems that we run in to and the worries and sorrows that we have. To find the strength and power of being a woman without the weight of the patriarchy on our shoulders.
I also think it’s important that men (and I mean all men) have a space where they can be themselves without the pressure of what society expects from them. A space to talk about the things they run into, in this society that portrays them as “the bad guy”. To explore a version of masculinity that isn’t toxic. A place to connect to others in an emotional and deep, meaningful way. To form a brotherhood that is not about being a warrior and being aggressive, but instead is gentle and soft in the same way we feminists see our sisterhood. That is what I wish for them.
And for all of us who fall outside of that binary, I wish the same thing. A space to explore what gender means, what falling outside of the norm entails and the troubles that we face because of that. To explore how that influences spirituality, connection, life in general. To find power and strength in being who we are, openly.
So yes, it can be very important to focus on gender, even (or perhaps especially) in spirituality.
However, there is another side of this coin. Discrimination is, unfortunately, also found in our community and has been there since the very beginning. Gardner was a misogynist and a homophobe. He created a “sacred” rite which hinged on him, and other High Priests, to have sexual intercourse with young women. Gay and lesbian people were not allowed into Wiccan covens for many years under the guise of the Wiccan Laws.
In 2011 on PantheaCon a group of Dianic Wiccans refused entrance to Transwomen who wished to participate in a women’s only ritual, stating that only women born with a womb were allowed to enter. Budapest, the founder of Dianic Wicca, came out with a statement which was, frankly, hurtful and outrageous. Claiming that “transies” (her word, not mine) were just men trying to encroach on women’s spaces again. This incident, which was in no way the first, sparked a lot of (trans)people speaking out against gender discrimination in our traditions.
Then there are those who take the “divine feminine” and “divine masculine” so far that it becomes toxic. An example of this is the phenomenon of the “twin flame”. Like many spiritual beliefs, it has been ripped out of context and is now to many an idea where every woman, a.k.a. the Divine Feminine, has a perfect soulmate somewhere out there, their man, a.k.a. the Divine Masculine. They claim it is our divine duty as women to heal men, so they can step into their power as true divine masculine. With lovely ripped-out-of-context poetry like: “If you want to change the world, love a man; really love him” and “Because you have a womb, a sweet, deep gateway to wash and renew old wounds.” That last one is because we (supposedly) should see the “ancestral burden” of all the confused, angry warrior-men who came before him and we, as women, can heal that with the magical power of our wombs. Right.
The idea that “feminine” means that you have to heal others, that you have to be “of service” to those in need (not just men), that you have to use your “divine gifts” of gentleness, and patience, and true love to better the world is extremely toxic! Just like the idea that all men (yes, all men, apparently) are these wounded little boys stuck in a violent rampage of fear and ancestral aggression is. Does that sound healthy to you?
Then there are the women’s movements who believe, like the Dianics mentioned above, that you can only truly connect with the inner feminine goddess if you have a womb. After all, life is created from the womb, it is the source of all living things (or so they believe). So if you don’t have one, either because you weren’t born biologically female or because of medical procedures like a hysterectomy, because of, say, cancer, you aren’t a woman (anymore). And some take it even further. Since life comes from the womb, you are only truly a woman if you’ve given birth. So anyone who can’t, for whatever reason, or anyone who doesn’t want children, is no longer a woman. Which is of course insane, hurtful and extremely toxic.
Also, I don’t know about you, but I find it extremely offensive to be reduced to a single body part. The only value I have, according to some of these feminist fringe “goddess” movements, is a womb. And sometimes a vagina. Aren’t we always accusing men of reducing us to that? Now we’re doing it to ourselves as well, but it’s in the name of spirituality so it’s okay? Hell no! I am more than a womb. You are more than a womb, or a penis, or boobs, or a vagina. We’re people! Our body parts don’t define us.
Does it matter in our magic whether we focus on gender? No, because gender is something earthly, something of our societal world, and witchcraft is from the fringes, from outside polite society. We work in the liminal, in the in-between. In both the realm of spirit and the mundane. We work in the shadows. With a lot of our workings, we go beyond the physical.
I spoke about the Gods in my first post. There are a lot of Gods who are shapeshifters, some of whom can also change between genders: Zeus, Loki, Dionysus. There are also Gods who are neither man nor woman, or a combination of both: Hermaphroditus, Hapi, the Christian God. There are Gods who were known to have both a male and female form: Fosta, Aphrodite, Shiva. There are Gods who could upon request change the sex of mortals: Inanna, Isis. In myth gender is a very fluid thing. Sometimes it matters a lot, usually in stories about humiliation or love, but mostly it doesn’t matter at all. We, as pagans and sometimes as witches, take a lot of inspiration from our Gods. We see (part of) ourselves reflected in what they stand for, or in their stories. So if for them gender is something fluid, something that could change one way or another, or glide along something of a spectrum, then why would ours be one or the other? If we work with them in our space, in our world between worlds, then wouldn’t we then also be granted to be something else? To rise above the expectations that modern society holds for us? Not to mention the many cultures whose shamans, spirit helpers, guides, witch doctors, clergy and magical practitioners were not man ór woman.
To become rigid in your magical focus, on any subject, is to limit yourself. It’s important to keep an open mind. To keep yourself acceptive of change, or you’ll grow stagnant. This is true for any part of witchcraft and paganism, so also with gender. It’s okay, and perhaps sometimes good, to focus on what it means to you. But don’t let this focus limit yourself and your magic.
Up next: let’s get personal!
A new drawing for the header, new colours, and a new feel overall. It was time. The previous colour scheme (blue and purple) is still a favourite of mine, but I feel the new colours and art reflect me more. And yes, a pentagram proudly displayed in the header of the website.
So what does this mean? Well, I’ve been on a pretty long hiatus (3 years! Oh my!) and of course in that time I’ve done some thinking and changing. So you might notice another change as well; the shop is closed and gone (for now?). Witchcraft has become a bigger part of my life again, and I realized that most of the things that I was creating, was linked to my spiritual practice. So why not show that?
So am I back? To be honest, I don’t know. I want to be. I want to share more about my craft(s) and have conversations and connect to others. But I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep up a regular posting schedule. But I want to try.
So what else will change? Probably the overall theme of the blog will change more towards witchcraft, paganism and spirituality. Simply because that is what I am spending most of my time on. More rambling thoughts about certain subjects. More crafts and poetry and less stories (although I do have a few lined up). Maybe also more rambly D&D stories and thoughts if I feel like it. And, hopefully, more interaction with you all!
I’m back with a new story! This short little thing was written for a writing contest with the theme “heroes”.
The thing no one understands is that everybody can be a hero. We all are, for a tiny moment each day, a hero. We are heroes when we stand up for what we believe in, when we are our true selves – fearlessly, when we show courage, even though we are afraid. Small moments perhaps, but important ones.
As soon as Superheroes enter the scene, you forget about the existence of those common heroes. Perhaps that is because we are surrounded with these acts of small heroism each and every day. We lose sight of them in the mundane, and then, when a shiny new Hero appears who can create fire out of nothing, like me, you forget about all others.
You point a camera at me while ignoring the real heroes; the first responders, the parents protecting their children, the survivors. Even beyond this busy aftermath, you have no more love left for the nurse caring for your grandparent, or the people cloaked with rainbow flags, walking hand in hand. And yet –
And yet.
And yet they have it easier, not being in the spotlight. Not being “Super”. They are not under a microscope every second of every day. Their every move judged, weighed, picked apart for meaning that isn’t there. Sometimes getting a scoop of peppermint ice cream really is just that.
You know, I saved your lives last week. Saved the entire city, to be exact. And afterwards you flocked around me with your cameras and lights, and you shoved dozens of microphones in my face and asked me questions.
Do you realise you never ask me the right ones? You never ask how it feels to save people, or if I was afraid when I had a gun pointed right at my heart. Instead, you ask about property damage and if I am afraid I will get sued this time, again. Instead, you talk about the loss of life as if I am the one responsible. You ask me about my opinion on unrelated things, like your entertainment or politics, knowing that I can never give you a real answer, my answer. Because whenever I do, whenever I show you that the fact that I am fire in human form is not the only thing about me that may be different, you scorn me. Your cheers turn to ridicule. Your love turns so easily to hate. Those that don’t despise me give well-meant warnings about “public opinion” and “playing the audience”.
You see, the thing is, when I first discovered that the flame within my soul became too much to keep in, I was happy. I was overcome with joy at the thought of being something. Something more. I raced to show my parents and they were so proud. Not afraid at all. I went to a school filled with children, both with powers and without, and I was happy. Then you posed me a question, did I want to be a hero? Well, of course I wanted to be a hero! I wanted to save people, help people become better than they were, and I still do.
I’ve only recently come to realise that I remember that question through rose-tinted glasses. Looking back, I now hear that it wasn’t a question at all, but a choice. Did I want to be a hero and stick to your rules, fit in your neat little boxes, or did I want to be medicated? Because I was too much, too loud, too dangerous to let go unchecked. But back then I only heard the word hero and I was sold. You see, the thing is –
The thing is.
I used to be happy. I used to be proud of who I was and what I can do. Proud of the red and gold suit that you gave me when I graduated. When I had learned to push that roaring wildfire in me down until nothing but a spark remained. Before I heard the whispers behind my back and the vitriol spewed right in my face because you only see me as a Hero, not as a person. Before I realised that although I fight for your freedom, you have put me in a gilded cage.
You want me to burn like a candle – small and controlled, giving off just enough light. But that is not who and what I am. Fire consumes and grows bigger with everything it touches. That is what I want to be. Not the flame, but the Phoenix, ever rising from the ashes and spreading my wings to soar. Flying high above you all and your judgements, and pettiness, and hatred. Looking down and seeing your truths and the evil that rests in your hearts. And then burning that evil out until only the righteous and good shall remain. And oh –
Oh.
An epiphany is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? It rushes through you, leaving adrenaline and happiness in its wake. Just like the flames that flow under my skin, trying to find a way out and spread like wings, this enlightenment also cannot be contained. It clears the head of all distractions, making me see the bigger picture for the first time in my life, and let me tell you, darling, it is beautiful. I’ve finally figured it out, you see, figured me out. I was never meant for this life. I was meant for something more, much more, than mundane, yes, but never this life of containment and masks. Of rules and restraints. Now I see that even though you have pushed me, shaped and moulded me into your hero –
I was meant to be your villain all along.
Last weekend was the winter edition of Castlefest, which is one of the biggest and most “gezellig” fantasy and pagan festival here in the Netherlands. The summer edition is amazing and we’ve been considering it our holiday for years now. This was the first year that we visited the winter edition and it was a lot of fun! {and cold… so cold!}
One of the things I wanted to look for on Castlefest was a statue of the Goddess that I had had my eye on for a while now. The Mother, sitting on a treestump holding her pregnant belly. I’ve loved it from afar for so long that I decided that I really wanted her to be the consort to my Horned God statue. And I finally found her! Which of course was all the more reason to redecorate my altar and sacred space in a big way.
Isn’t she lovely? For years I had my altar set up in the same way, but this time I wanted to do it differently: more open space and make everything look prettier. I decided to put the statues on their own wooden disks, a lighter one for my new Mother Goddess. I decorated it with lots of gemstones, shells and feathers, as well as an adorable shell soap that I got from one of my coven sisters. The cauldron stands for the womb of the Goddess so I placed it at her feet. I love it!
This amazing statue we got on our honeymoon to Glastonbury and I’ve spent forever trying to find a worthy companion. Because He is sitting down, I wanted Her to be sitting down as well, which wasn’t an easy task! The Horned God is sitting on a bigger wooden disk, surrounded by petrified wood, green gemstones and lots of forest findings. There is a small piece of antler there as well and of course more candles!
For the centre I really wanted to play around with levels and different heights, so I took one of those small wall shelves and placed it upside down in the middle of my altar space. It works like a charm and looks great! Next to the pentacle are a pair of antlers and in front are a two hagstones, one bought in Glastonbury, one found years ago. I filled the space underneath with fake greenery, selenite and quartz.
The entire workspace now feels calming and open and I think I’ve found a set up that’ll suit me for years! {which is why I wanted to share it with you all} I’m very happy with how it all turned out and I’m sure this will help on my path of re-discovering witchcraft and paganism.
I’d love to hear about your sacred spaces, do you have one? What is it like? Let me know!
Just a few weeks ago one of our friends became a dad! Little Saya was born and she is adorable. Of course I had to make a card to celebrate this occasion and since he’s part of our Dungeons and Dragons group, I wanted to use dragons!
I first created the rainbow background with watercolour markers and cut out the clouds. Then I stamped and coloured the little pastel dragon family! After that, the wait was on… what was the name going to be?
I just loved making this card with its soft tones and overall adorable-ness. Luckily the happy parents loved it as well! Let’s just hope little Saya will grow up loving dragons… {although I think we’ll make sure}
I’ve talked about my spiritual path here before, but to be honest, I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus when it comes to witchcraft and paganism. I talked the talk but didn’t walk the walk so to speak. Since being home for a few weeks {pro tip: don’t fall down stairs… it sucks} I’ve had time to reflect. As you do, sitting on a couch with nothing to do all day, right? And what I found is that while my worldview and my beliefs have changed over the years, I do miss it. I miss the witchy feeling and the peace and confidence it brought me. So I’m back! Basically starting from scratch and trying to figure out which bits and pieces within the pagan and witch paths do fit me and which don’t.
Creativity, crafting and art have always been a big part of my life {my site is not called Marjolijn MAKES for nothing} so it makes sense that it also becomes a big part of my spiritual practice and pagan path. Something that I’ve wanted to do for a while now is make a beautiful Book of Shadows or Gimoire that’s filled with art and knowledge about a bunch of different subjects. But I’ve always been afraid to start. There are so many beautiful examples out there, how could I ever compare, right? So this was step one, making a journal fit to become a Grimoire.
I took a blank sketchbook and went all out. Using different mixed media techniques I finally made a book I absolutely adored. Since I made the book at night {bad idea…} I had to tweak it a little bit in the days following. Because it was bright BRIGHT metallic purple with a few silver streaks, not the dark and mysterious book I wanted it to be. I added some matte black paint, some darker purple and gold. Now I absolutely love it!
And the back needed to be fancy as well of course! Now if you’re still reading and thinking: what the hell is a grimoire or a book of shadows? Sorry, I should have explained earlier. Both are books used within witchcraft and within the pagan path. They are magic journals. Sometimes the terms are used interchangeably, sometimes a book of shadows is seen more as a magical diary, where you note the divinations, spells, rituals and prayers you used and what their effects were, where a grimoire is more a compendium of knowledge with pages filled with information and correspondences.
I’ve already made a couple of pages about moon magic, which I’ll share with you over the coming weeks. It’s been so much fun to work in this way and I’m hoping I can fill my artsy grimoire with lots of colour and lots of different techniques. For those who want to see more, I have a pinterest board filled with beautiful examples of other people’s grimoires, and I have a witchy sideblog on Tumblr called Baduhenna’s Raven, where I also talk about grimoires and am starting a bit of a series on how to make an artsy grimoire like mine. {Though I might also start it here… If people are interested?} So check those out and tell me what you do with your BoS/Grimoire!
And we’re back from hiatus! YAY! As you may know by now I play a lot of Tabletop RPGs. And I do mean a lot… We have a Pathfinder game every wednesday, Starfinder once a month and then a D&D 5th edition one-shot every once in a while. You can easily say I’m a bit addicted {especially when you see my dice collection…shh!}
We usually play with the same group of friends, although the parties depend on who is the GM and which players can make it. So when one of my party member’s birthday came up, I knew I needed to make a D&D-themed birthday card!
I used the adorable BB Magical Dragons stamp by My Favorite Things and used a bunch of stamps and stencils to make the mixed media background. The D20 dice and drew and inked myself! It’s so sparkly!
I hand lettered the “Roll for birthday fun!” quote and added a bunch of tiny accents with white and black posca fineliners. This card was so much fun to make and he absolutely loved it! I know what I can make for my other party members {make ALL the colours!} and I might even add them to the shop if there are people out there who are interested. But for now: yay for cute D&D dragon cards!
I know, I know, I promised you another part of Of Wolf and Man. I swear it’s coming, just not this week. See, I took a little tumble down the stairs {actually, one step, but that sounds so lame} and busted up my ankle pretty good. This means that I couldn’t sit up for too long and my focus is shot to hell. I tried writing, but I didn’t get any further than 4 sentences. So, better luck next week!
For now though, have some six word stories! I love this concept and am usually thinking up a few of these. I want to make a page in my writers journal for them and just jot down a few as I think of them. I wrote a few this week {today… shh} but these three I liked best. Enjoy and tell me your six word story!
Her fall finally felt like freedom
“Fairytales don’t exist,” said the werewolf
The stars slowly faded to black
And a bonus one that is not mine, but a Critical Role quote that makes the best six word story:
I broke the world for us…
I just love that one!
And we’re back to our regular scheduled story! If you have no idea what I’m talking about… I wanted to write a bit of a longer story, since most of my stories had been around 1000 to max. 2000 words, so I wanted to challenge myself. Which turned into this thing, currently 8435 words and counting! I kept wondering this week why it seemed to take so long, it felt like the scene kept stretching I wondered why. Well, because this week I wrote over 2700 words…. woops… So if you haven’t started reading yet, start here!
This week we’re visiting the magical nightclub called Unveiled and we’ll find out some things about our victim… {dun dun dunnnn} Mostly though, it was an excuse for me to write about fire performing and beautiful music {and I regret nothing!} So enjoy, and make sure to check out the notes below the story a little more in-depth knowledge on what inspired part 4!
The club was not a lot to look at from the outside. A concrete cube in the middle of the industrial district with ‘Unveiled’ above the door in a fancy cursive script with gold backlighting. Bolts of sheer fabric hung on both sides next to the entrance. If not for the warm light spilling out of the door and the huge looking guys standing next to it, you might have never known it was a club. And a pricey one at that.
Unveiled was one of those places that claimed to give you a glance of what life had been like beyond the veil. Decadent, exotic foods and sensual shows pulled in crowds of both humans and non-humans every night. The humans coming to see the magic and power of the supernatural, the non-humans coming to see what their ancestors may have lived like or, for those who lived beyond a hundred years, to reminisce on years gone by. I had the feeling that this was nothing like life used to be Beyond the Veil, unless you were nobility of course, but it didn’t seem to matter. Unveiled had a waiting list of two weeks.
Luckily a flash of a badge was enough for the bouncers to wave us through.
“Good evening and welcome to Unveiled, do you have a reservation?” A slim woman with soft pink hair greeted us from behind her hostess podium. The hair was a dead giveaway that she was a Fae of some kind. The floral colour usually meaning pixie. It made sense, having someone who could gauge the emotions of others and influence them if needed right at the entrance. No doubt it stopped a lot of trouble before it even started.
I held my badge up for her to see. I gestured to Violet standing next to me, badge also in hand. “Detectives Bluebell and Harper, SCPD. We need to speak to Pyra.”
The Maitre ‘D looked unruffled as she inspected our badges. “One moment please,” she said when she was satisfied. She touched an elegant looking brooch and turned away, speaking a few words too soft for me to hear. After a moment she turned back. “Pyra is about to take the stage, you will be able to talk to her after her performance. I am to show you a table, the manager will be with you in a moment. If you would follow me.” She gestured us further inside and showed us to a table in the middle of the club.
The interior was warm and inviting. The same sheer fabric that was outside lined the walls, the gold shimmering slightly in the candlelight. At the end of the club sat the stage, the sides lined with lush green climbing vines like curtains. Round tables and chairs of a light wood stood facing the stage, the crystal candleholders filled with moss green candles scattered rainbows on the floor. Water was tinkling somewhere to my right, a fountain in the middle of a nightclub.
A skylight covered most of the ceiling, the night sky shining through it tinged purple. There were constellations I recognized from reading about the Veil in high school. Unveiled apparently had a spelled ceiling that showed the sky on the other side of the Veil. It really as almost like stepping into another world with all its golds and greens and twisted woods. The entire scene was beautiful and now, standing here, I finally understood the appeal.
We sat down at our table and a moment later a waitress, wearing a dress that looked like it was made from real leaves, put down two pink and sparkly drinks.
“Oh we don’t –“ I started.
“It’s just lemonade, Detective. On the house,” A man in a gold suit said as he approached our table.
His smooth, coffee-coloured skin almost seemed to glow against the soft shimmer of the gold fabric. Long, red-blond hair fell over his shoulders, almost to his waist, his pointed ears sticking out of the thick strands. His smile was wide and warm, if a little bit smug. He was gorgeous and he knew it. “Good evening,” he greeted, offering a small bow, “my name is Setahl Dahirae, I am the owner of this establishment. How may I be of assistance?”
We both took out our badges again, holding them up for the Fae to see. Detectives Harper and Bluebell,” I repeated, “we need to speak to one of your performers, Pyra.”
“I see. And what is it that you think Bryni has done?”
“It is part of an ongoing investigation, I can’t comment on that,” I told him.
His smile grew. “You are both homicide detectives, are you not?” He gestured towards where our badges were a moment ago. “Surely I have a right to know if one of my employees committed such a crime?”
I got the feeling he wasn’t really an asshole, not like other hot-shot business owners trying to find out information about an open case. There was a hint of worry in his amber eyes. Whether that was because our suspect was his friend or because it endangered his club I didn’t know. There was something else too, a mischievous twinkle that made me think he was trying to get a rise out of me.
I gave him my sweetest smile. “No, you don’t.”
He clutched at his heart dramatically. “You wound me, my lady! I am only trying to protect my family and my livelihood.”
“I’m sure your livelihood will survive,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“If there is something we feel you should know, we will tell you, mister Dahirae,” Violet assured him, sending a glare my way. “You’re club is beautiful.”
He beamed at her words. “Thank you, thank you. Please, enjoy your stay and know that you are always welcome at Unveiled.” He gestured towards the drinks. “I hope you find them as appealing as this conversation has been. Have a good evening.” With a small bow, he backed away from our table and made his way back over to the bar.
Violet picked up her fizzy drink and took a sip. “It’s delicious.” She said happily.
I was a little more cautious, sniffing it first. It indeed did not smell like alcohol, it smelled fruity and sweet. “It’s pink,” I complained, it just made Violet grin wider.
“It’s not going to bite you. Just try it.”
I took a small sip. It tasted good but holy hydrangea that stuff was sweet.
Violet burst out laughing next to me, no doubt reading my face. “It reminds me of the soup my gran used to make.”
“You ate this stuff for soup?” I asked, incredulous, which just set Violet off again. I was suddenly glad we always ordered in when we ate together, I’m not sure I could stomach Pixie cuisine.
“So,” Violet said innocently when she stopped giggling, “the manager is pretty cute.”
“Last time I checked you only like women.” Maybe if I feigned ignorance, this conversation wouldn’t go where I was afraid it would go.
She nudged my shoulder. “Not for me, for you. He was totally flirting with you.”
Aaaaand here we go.
She gave me a disappointed look. “Did you really have to be so rude?”
“You know you sound like my mother when you say that.”
“Your mother is a wise woman.” She saluted me with her pink sugary monstrosity and took another sip. “You could do a whole lot worse you know.” She looked behind us towards the bar. “A lot worse.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Not interested. How could a mage make herself smell like a ‘wolf?”
“You’re not subtle.” She scolded.
“I’m not trying to be subtle, now answer the question.”
“With magic?” she asked, looking towards the still empty stage.
I shook my head. “The ‘wolves would have smelled that. It would have to be some other way, like packbonds gone wrong, wearing each other’s clothes, dousing yourself in ‘wolf blood –.”
Violet looked up at that one. I held up my hands. “Just random ideas.” I defended.
“Your random ideas worry me sometimes. Although, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve seen. Hell, not even the weirdest thing we’ve seen this year.”
I thought of Drayce Andvari’s mummified corpse. His wide open eyes and shock-white hair and tried not to shiver.
The lights dimmed, signalling that the show was about to begin. The evening crowd hushed as a man walked onto the stage. He was wearing a simple dark brown tank top and linen pants, a short fiery red vest stopping just short of his waist. Brown curly hair fell in loose waves to his shoulders, softening his sharp features.
As he sat down on the chair on the left side of the podium, he set an instrument that looked like something between a violin and a cello against his shoulder. First he plucked a few strings and tapped against the wood to set a simple beat, repeating it with a small machine at his feet. Then he set his bow to string. A beautiful and haunting melody started, the sound not something I’d heard from a cello before. I could see this being played around a fire, a pipe with wild dagga flower going from hand to hand. People slowly twirling and dancing in the clearing nearby, caravans standing in a loose circle around them.
A young woman walked slowly onto the stage. Her braided hair started with a deep black at the roots and went from red to a bright orange at the tip, it looked like fire, which was, I assumed, the entire point. She wore a jagged black skirt that reached just below her thigh, leaving her long legs and feet bare. Her short top was decorated with delicate embroidery and beading which shimmered in the candle light. A collection of thin gold and bronze chains wrapped around her like a harness, swaying gently as she moved.
Slowly she spread her arms wide, revealing fans made from metal wire. Without warning the tips burst into flame causing the crowd, me included, to gasp at the sudden flare of brightness. I’d never even seen her lips move.
Mages needed conduits for their magic for it to work. Usually, this was a combination of symbols, herbs and words all dedicated to the same purpose. For a Fire mage to work magic without speaking was, to put it lightly, impressive. It also raised my doubts if Pyra was the woman we were looking for. If she was attuned to her element, this capable with her magic, there was no way that she wouldn’t have just put Koppenhaver on fire if she wanted him dead. Unless of course not using fire at all was an attempt to put us on the wrong track, but I doubted it.
Her body curved and bowed to the music, the fire casting a warm light on her pale skin. The movements were sensual and mesmerizing, set off with a tiny rush of adrenaline every time her fire flared. Her hips and her fire seemed to sway in the same tempo, the ghostly melody of the cello falling and rising with the flames.
Nobody seemed unaffected and for the next half hour we watched as she danced, some sort of fusion between belly dance and ballet, and used her magic to make flames dance with her. Hoops, fans, a staff, all were used and all were set alight without a single word. At the height of the performance, two huge fiery wings spread out behind her, casting her slight frame in a stark silhouette against the golden light.
I’d seen mages perform before, but never had I seen someone use their talents like this before, like art. Pyra seemed to be made of fire, the flames an extension of herself, like the man’s music was an extension of himself. Harmony. No wonder they were one of the most popular acts at Unveiled, it was truly a sight to behold.
As the show drew to a close she spread her arms wide and bowed deep, the crowd, including us, standing up to give them a standing ovation. They stood next to each other for a moment, revelling in the applause before bowing one last time and making their way off stage.
Before we could decide whether to sit back down for a moment or to go to the dressing room immediately the waitress from before stood by our table.
“Detectives, if you would follow me?”
She led us through a series of hallways into a brightly lit room. Racks with clothes lined one wall, mirrors with lights lined the other. Both Bryni and what I now saw had to be her brother were both here, still in their performance outfits. They both looked up as we entered, seeming curious but annoyed that we interrupted their downtime. They looked alike, in the stark lights of the changing room. They had the same cheekbones, the same facial structure, but Bryni’s feminine curves softened the sharpness that seemed to run in this family.
Again, Violet and I pulled out our badges, flipping them open and holding them up. “Detectives Bluebell and Harper, SCPD Violent Crimes and Homicide division. Are you Bryni Hugh?” I asked her as she started pulling on a soft looking silk robe.
“I’m Bryni, this is my brother Fintan. What can we help you with, Detectives?” She seemed apprehensive, but in the way most people react when you have two homicide detectives wanting to ask you some questions.
I really didn’t think this was the pair we were looking for, but maybe they could tell us a little more about our victim. “Does the name Donald Koppenhaver mean anything to either of you?”
The siblings looked at each other, but no sign of recognition crossed their faces. “No.” They answered in unison. “Should it?” Bryni asked.
“You’ve had a run-in with him before,” Violet started as she pulled out a picture, “left him with quite a scar.”
Bryni took the picture from Violet’s hand, her face hardening as she recognized Koppenhaver’s face. “Look, I don’t know what he’s telling you, but the creep totally had it coming.” She waved the picture around in an irritated wave of her arm.
“He came on to you?” I asked.
“Came on to me? Is that what he said?” she let out a humourless laugh, “that asshole fucking assaulted me!”
Fintan took this moment to rip the photo from her hands and study it, letting out a low growl. “It’s true,” he started, “they guy was lucky I wasn’t here that day or I would have ripped his throat out.”
“Well, that’s exactly what happened to him last night,” I said, checking their faces for any kind of reaction. There was shock and a hint of relief, but no guilt and no pride. Emotions that you might expect from people capable of such a vicious murder.
“And you think we had anything to do with it?” Bryni paused for a moment. “Look, I’m not sad he’s no longer out there, the guy was a total douchebag. Three years ago he tried to force himself onto one of the other performers, a Siren named Claire Hidgins. She reported it, three days later he corners her by her car, next thing we know, she drops all charges. I swear, he did something to her. She left the state to be away from that guy. When he tried to do something to me a few weeks later, I fought him off.” There was a hint of pride in her eyes, but mostly she just looked young and vulnerable. “Setahl tossed him to the street and he’s never been back since.”
“Setahl and Claire can confirm this?” I asked, writing Claire’s name down so Kravitz could look into it later. I waited for her nod to continue. “And where were you both last night between midnight and two?”
“Look the guy may have deserved it, but we’re no killers,” Fintan spoke up, “Besides, we were here performing ‘til eleven and after that we stayed to work on our new act. We went home around three o’clock. Setahl stayed to listen, you can ask him.”
We were going to ask him about Koppenhaver anyway, but I didn’t think we needed to check the alibi. The siblings weren’t our killers. From the way Violet was looking at me she didn’t think so either. We just lost our two suspects but if Koppenhaver really was the kind of man Bryni and Fintan believed he was, a whole new pool of suspect just opened up.
So there you have it, part 4 of our monster story! I started watching Grimm recently {still haven’t decided if I like it or not…} and in the first season there is a character who is also a fire juggler. I absolutely loved the way she moved and the idea of a supernatural creature with an affinity to fire to be a performer like this. Thus Pyra was born.
I was listening to one of my favourite artists, Adam Hurst while writing part 3 of this story. While listening I thought, this would be perfect to do a slow belly dance/fire fan performance to. It just fit too well. I already knew I needed Fintan to be there, so congrats Finny, you get a cello! If you’re not familiar with Adam’s music I do suggest you check it out, he’s amazing. I reckoned the numbers Fintan played would be Ritual as his first song {since this is also the first song I ever heard of him, and instantly fell in love with the haunting melody}, and Hidden Door for Pyra’s first dance. I love it!
marjolijnmakes.com 