January 20, 2016 § Leave a comment
Velvet opulence, the richest of sable and velvet draping over bed and chair and mahogany wood in a candle-lit fire-warmed openness, stretching in to starry night.
Poetry and passion, water contained in silver. There is little wilderness, here; only wild as the most civilized of fae can be wild, in a haunting graceful way with no hint of fangs. It is easy to drown in such decadence, a poetry that rambles for the sake of its own flowing music with no direction in sight, content to spiral and descent, circle and cycle.
Beauty for beauty’s sake. But there are stories of faerie-glens for a reason: caution-tales of people becoming trapped within the glamourie, a fae-place that stretches on in endless timeless music and never ends, never moves, trap of honey for short-lived flies.