Post by Mab Rox on Apr 24, 2007 9:26:54 GMT 9.5
;D Here's the fic I said that I'd post from over on the Drabble board.
Once upon a time…that is how they begin the stories about the Old Ways now. I am nothing but a character, and an evil one at that. It takes a special person to see through the guise that has been thrown over me. However, it seems as though more and more people understand now, and I wonder where they were when I needed them. More children—for that is what they are; children—trust in the Ancient ones, even as their parents call to the very God that destroyed me.
At this moment in time, there is a young girl who is penning a letter in ink on parchment that she will burn, in hopes that it will reach me. There is a boy who addresses his diary as Queen Mab. There is a girl who dreams of me, and wakes up crying. There is a boy who calmly writes his history paper on the Celtic Faerie Queen, by the name of Mab. I am gaining power again, with each Wiccan who calls me into a circle. With each act of magick used in my name, I regain a shard of my former self.
I feel a deep connection to these children—these boys and girls who believe in me. They believe not because they are told to, but because they choose to. That girl will find that a dream will visit her with an answer to the question she asked in the letter. The diary called Queen Mab will never seem to scorn that boy. The girl who drams of me will gain something from that dream. The boy who writes his paper on me will receive an A. No one can dispute that I reward my followers well.
It is difficult to practice my powers from within the Void, but even the most minimal amount of magick will multiply if left for long enough, and I am growing stronger by the minute. I do not know how the Christian God operates, how He gains his power—or if He even has it—but I know that soon my magick will be a reckoning force. Soon, there will be no need for my followers to hide, as some do now. Magick will come again to the world.
There are great differences in the people that follow me now as opposed to those who followed me before. My followers now wear stars in circles and the occasional Hammer of Thor, as opposed to raw crystals newly taken from the Earth. They practice their own magick, without need for me to monitor them. They can make their own stand, protect their own ground, and fight for themselves. They ask me to help them, but not to do every little thing for them.
I loved my human followers that I had in the past, but I always felt closer to the fae of which I was queen. The followers I have now seem to be human-faerie hybrids, and I love them. I know they love me in return. They know that I am an influential figure, which is more than could be said for some I had in the past. And with the followers I have now, I can break free of my prison. The Quarters are called, and I am drawn into the act of magick being practiced, and I am Queen of the Old Ways once more.
With death comes life, and with innocence comes the Devil, or so I was once told. Where many still see me as that Devil, more and more are seeing me as the life that comes in the midst of death. It is to those that I owe my survival, and to me they owe their magick. They seem to understand this, for which I hold them in the highest regard. I shall soon drag myself out of this Hell that I live in, and I will be met by those that follow me. And together, we shall show mother Gaia that magick has always been, and will always be.
Don't ask me where this came from. All I can tell you is that it was supposed to be a songfic to The Voice by Celtic Woman, but it didn't quite work out. ;D
The Return of Magick
Once upon a time…that is how they begin the stories about the Old Ways now. I am nothing but a character, and an evil one at that. It takes a special person to see through the guise that has been thrown over me. However, it seems as though more and more people understand now, and I wonder where they were when I needed them. More children—for that is what they are; children—trust in the Ancient ones, even as their parents call to the very God that destroyed me.
At this moment in time, there is a young girl who is penning a letter in ink on parchment that she will burn, in hopes that it will reach me. There is a boy who addresses his diary as Queen Mab. There is a girl who dreams of me, and wakes up crying. There is a boy who calmly writes his history paper on the Celtic Faerie Queen, by the name of Mab. I am gaining power again, with each Wiccan who calls me into a circle. With each act of magick used in my name, I regain a shard of my former self.
I feel a deep connection to these children—these boys and girls who believe in me. They believe not because they are told to, but because they choose to. That girl will find that a dream will visit her with an answer to the question she asked in the letter. The diary called Queen Mab will never seem to scorn that boy. The girl who drams of me will gain something from that dream. The boy who writes his paper on me will receive an A. No one can dispute that I reward my followers well.
It is difficult to practice my powers from within the Void, but even the most minimal amount of magick will multiply if left for long enough, and I am growing stronger by the minute. I do not know how the Christian God operates, how He gains his power—or if He even has it—but I know that soon my magick will be a reckoning force. Soon, there will be no need for my followers to hide, as some do now. Magick will come again to the world.
There are great differences in the people that follow me now as opposed to those who followed me before. My followers now wear stars in circles and the occasional Hammer of Thor, as opposed to raw crystals newly taken from the Earth. They practice their own magick, without need for me to monitor them. They can make their own stand, protect their own ground, and fight for themselves. They ask me to help them, but not to do every little thing for them.
I loved my human followers that I had in the past, but I always felt closer to the fae of which I was queen. The followers I have now seem to be human-faerie hybrids, and I love them. I know they love me in return. They know that I am an influential figure, which is more than could be said for some I had in the past. And with the followers I have now, I can break free of my prison. The Quarters are called, and I am drawn into the act of magick being practiced, and I am Queen of the Old Ways once more.
With death comes life, and with innocence comes the Devil, or so I was once told. Where many still see me as that Devil, more and more are seeing me as the life that comes in the midst of death. It is to those that I owe my survival, and to me they owe their magick. They seem to understand this, for which I hold them in the highest regard. I shall soon drag myself out of this Hell that I live in, and I will be met by those that follow me. And together, we shall show mother Gaia that magick has always been, and will always be.
Don't ask me where this came from. All I can tell you is that it was supposed to be a songfic to The Voice by Celtic Woman, but it didn't quite work out. ;D
