The Lunatic, The Lover, & The Poet

Gender : Female Posts : 15 Karats : 420

Once upon a heart born dream
Was born a muse with hair like ink
And eyes as bright as a firefly,
Her life beholden to a poet’s love
Wherein was found no apology
For his works grew thus to a sizeable collection.

He was but the first of her collection,
Sweet mortal dreamers dreaming a sweet dream,
Their words naught but a cheap apology
To the masterpieces she bade them write in ink.
Her charms drove many to love
And many more to lives so brilliantly brief as a firefly.

She had a soft spot for such fireflies,
White-hot souls so transient in her collection
As she passed the ages, offering inspiration and love
To those that would have it with their dream
Or else before they would spill their ink,
A lie to which she birthed no apology.

For an untruth needs no apology
Save that a revelation might crush a firefly.
With arms and hands all covered in ink
She coddles her precious collection
A source of solace amidst a sea of dreams
Though many may claim she cannot love

Yet it was, through the wilds of time, that love
Was all of which she needed, apology
Of sustenance, fine, so long as she was found in a dream
Thought of and cherished by her fireflies,
Many a Thomas and Henry and even a William in her collection
Who would gladly waste on her an eternity of ink.

So it is that this lady so oft with ink
Upon her skin like paper, whom many did love
Whether she could give so much or no back to her collection,
Who on her breath breathes no apology
Of her actions towards any firefly
May in fact be naught more than a dream.

And yet by ink spilt, much more than a dream,
She seeks a new collection, come here to find a new firefly,
From whom she may draw life and love in apology

Lanthe Kryn Deòir
leanan sidhe • silver fruit

Drawn to creativity and imagination like moth to a flame, Lanthe is a creature most obsessed with the things she adores—and those, quite frankly, are many. Persistent and protective, she can be quite possessive when it comes to the things that are, or could be, hers. Among these are people, which, as a bit of a bad habit, she regards as thingsrather than persons: interesting and fun to play with, but as little able to affect her as a pen or paintbrush. That aside, she craves interaction with people, especially mortals, and is quite the social fae. Like any, she enjoys her solitude, but company is where she draws her life force, and, unable to create anything herself, time alone can be rather tedious and boring, which is simply something she does not do.

❝Friendship is constant in all things. ❞
With her easy, breezy ~~beautiful Cover girl~~ lifestyle and outlook on life, “friends,” if they be called so, come easily to Lanthe. Whether or not she would regard them as “friends,” she loves humans and their company, and is quite doting on the ones she comes across. Generally nonchalant and almost flippant, it would seem that she takes little seriously, however, and her loyalty may be fleeting, as she can be a fickle fae. Only time will tell.

❝It is neither good nor bad but thinking makes it so.❞
Occasionally noted as morally ambiguous, Lanthe, like most fae, does not regard the world in terms of human morals. Though she has her limits and acknowledges that there are certain things which irk her, many of those who consider themselves her “enemies” are hardly seen as so to her; in fact, they often seem to slip her mind. There are those who would see her as heartless and incapable of any human emotion, self-serving and at cause for the short lives and troubled minds of her precious pets, but it is generally their own minds which make her out to be an enemy. The quickest way to become a true enemy is to blatantly pose a threat, to insult her work (or the work of her mortals, as it were), or to try to force her into working.

❝Tis one thing to be tempted, another to fall.❞
Though sexual relationships between she and her collection are not unusual, she is primarily a muse, not a lover. Much as it is with morality, it is almost as if Lanthe does not have the emotional capacity to “love” in the human sense of the word. Yes, she “loves” the things she owns—including her collection of mortals—but she has never been “in” love, and is able to have an otherwise deep and enriching relationship without feeling an inkling of emotion upon walking away or seeing her partner die. She can be quite the gentle and doting lover, but one must wonder sometimes if there is some truth to the old tale that the fae have neither heart nor soul.

❝Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. ❞

While the debate is still open on whether or not Lanthe is capable of giving love, she is without any doubt most capable and most willing to receive love. As a faerie muse, the final—and perhaps most important—category of relationships which Lanthe indulges in are those she holds with her mortals (and indeed, once she begins to work with them, they are hers forever more). Many of her mortals have claimed and professed love, and to an extent, she loved them back, but as stated before, she has never been in love. As a muse, she is whatever her mortals require her to be—if they require a coddling, doting mother, she will be so; a gentle counselor or a strict teacher, done. Not only does she adore humans as a general rule, she has a particular affinity for those otherwise designated as “crazy”—mentally skewed, psychologically disturbed, or simply struggling internally, she adores the flavor of insanity in their soul. It opens them up to new possibilities and imaginations that are otherwise impossible, and frees them from society’s constraints. Poets, musicians, writers, painters, sculptors, or any kind of creative, she will find them and she will have them if she so desires; working as the curator for the art museum in town affords her ample access to such inspired minds.

• Established relationships.

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