Festival of Legends Report

This weekend is the 3^rd annual Festival of Legends in south Chapel Hill, NC. I went for the first time, and enjoyed the afternoon. This is sort of a mini-Rennaissance fair, with booths setup selling jewelry, costuming, personal and house décor of all sorts. Also food trucks – reasonably priced. And performances of everything from jousting (which I missed by minutes, apparently), to musicians, to armed combat (mostly sword-fighting).

The real fun is walking around and seeing all the wonderful costumes! Everything from fairy and fantastic to medieval armour to Rennaissance styles. And of course the simply far out.

My favorite events of the day were: 

The Bird Man, moving around the Festival on a large ball and juggling everything from eggs to flaming torches	The “monks” – which reminded me very much of the spirits in Spirited Away

Wendy Mehndi’s henna pavilion, where a friend and I enjoyed getting henna’d

Seeing so many familiar faces! There is a lot of crossover between the sf/f convention crowd and the ran faire crowd. I went solo, but immediately ran into friends and enjoyed migrating from group to group through the afternoon.

Tasting a "flight" of five different meads from the "heavenly" Starlight Mead: My favorites, the Traditional Semi Sweet and the Meadjito (I bought a bottle!), the interesting sweet peach and spicy apple, and the slap-your-tongue Kickin' Cranberry Orange (with jalapeño).

A familiar discussion with many of my friends is the introvert/extrovert balance. For years I considered the debate about being an “extroverted introvert” or an “introverted extrovert”, and I think I finally found my answer. It has to do with whether being social fundamentally charges or drains you – no matter how much you enjoy it.  I enjoy these social events immensely, but they drain my energy reserves. So, I confidently claim my role as an extroverted introvert.

The Festival continues on Sunday, April 27^th, so if you’re inclined, I wholeheartedly recommend it!

Time writing	20 minutes
April word count	12,070

Prompt: a secret agent, her ex-girlfriend and a talking cat who knows a secret

Midnight Black flattened himself on the high ledge, growling as he peered down at the car below. Its headlights made a show of the rain. All four doors opened, spilling light onto the glistening pavement. Large men climbed out, and one in the back reached inside and pulled out Jessie. She had a hood over her head, but Blackie would know her anywhere. The man grabbed her arm and shook her roughly, pulling her around the car. They all walked inside the building on the other side of the street.

Black slunk along the ledge, considering his options. The building was wide across the front, and short. Chances were, he’d see a light come on when they reached their destination. There. Four floors up from where he lay, in the corner. Time for backup.

#

Karen shifted her grocery bags into her left hand, along with the unwieldy umbrella, shaking her key ring from around her wrist down into her right palm. Climbing the steps to her brownstone, she was surprised to see a familiar figure waiting by the door. She looked around hopefully, but there was no one else in sight.

As she unlocked the door, Blackie wound around her ankles, soaking wet and meowing pitifully. “Hi stranger. Come on, don’t get my legs all wet. What are you doing here?”

The cat followed her in, then ran up the stairs ahead of her, stopping at her door. “Okay, of course you can come in. I probably have some tuna.”

Karen unlocked her apartment door and left her umbrella in the hallway, following Blackie inside. She didn’t bother turning on the light, dropping her keys on the console table by the door and carrying her grocery bags into the kitchen. She opened a cabinet door and pushed aside a few cans. “Yes, tuna. How about it.”

“No time for that, Karen. Jessie’s in trouble.”

Karen dropped the can with a clatter on the counter and spun around to stare at Blackie.

TBC?

Dogs in House	Eggs
Time writing	15 minutes
April word count	11,790

Prompt: Rogue daemon collectors

My head snapped up at Derrick’s whoop. He was jumping out of his seat, and I only knew one thing that could get him that excited. Okay, two. But that wasn’t happening. Which meant…

“Come on, Speedy! We’ve got the bastard!” Derrick was already by my chair, holding out his pinkie finger to hook with mine. I tucked my little finger against his in the partner shake that still bemused the rest of the squad.

Rising to join him, I pulled on my jacket, teasing, “Hurry up, old man.” No one paid any attention any more. As we waited for the elevator in expectant silence, I remembered the first time we’d met.

“Fastest track to detective in department history,” the gravelly voice ground out behind me as I’d stood next to the captain, making introductions on my first day on the Spook Squad. “A regular Speedy Gonzalez,” Derrick jibed, and an expectant hush fell over the room.

I couldn’t fumble this, or he’d never give up hazing me. I gambled, turning with a nonchalance I didn’t feel in my belly. “I’ll slow it down so you don’t look too bad, old man.”

It was inspired. It was dangerous. It sucked the air out of the room.

Derrick shouted with laughter and held out his picky finger in a crook. I struggled to keep the grin off my face as I linked fingers with him for the first time, sealing our unexpected partnership.

Now we rode down the fifty floors of the Justice Center, and Derrick held out his tablet, showing a city map with red circles of varying size and brightness. One large one pulsed in the Jade Quad -- the wealthiest sector. “See, tagging the newborn daemons finally paid off. We’ve been tracking them for months, and we finally have a solid lead.”

I nodded, giving him credit. Tagging had been his idea. When we caught the daemon thieves, Derrick would be promoted out of the Spook Squad and into a cushy corner window office for sure.

The daemons thefts had been a plague for years. A myth parents told their naughty children. Kids told under the blankets at night. Nurses told each other with a glance over the shoulder. Daemons attached themselves to humans at birth. After the first moon cycle, the connection was permanent. Separation for any reason would then almost certainly prove fatal to both. But if a daemon were removed in those first few days, then the human baby might survive as a weakling, with no one the wiser until years later.

And someone had been stealing daemons from newborns. Maybe for decades before it was discovered.

TBC?

Dogs in House	Houdini, Eggs
Time writing	~30 minutes
April word count	11,173

Prompt: The Awakening

Thanks to Saikono for permission to use his fantastic image, “The Awakening”!

Phanel felt the tremors in his study. He looked up from the ancient scroll he’d been studying and saw the vibrations shivering across the long-cooled bewdap in his mug. Forcing himself to steadiness, he rolled the scroll until he heard shouts outside the study door.

“The ghorst! The ghorst wakes!”

Phanel jumped up and threw the scroll on the table, reaching for his trident . Racing into the hall, has pushed past the curious and afraid. He had no time for them now. The ghorst roared.

Leaping over the balcony ledge, Phanel drew energy into his trident and pointed it down, slowing his fall until his hindclaws and tail balanced on the courtyard stones. He pushed past more people in his way, uncaring who they were as his awareness focussed on the ghorst. It bellowed again as Phalen reached the chasm opening. He planted his hindclaws wide and reared to his full height, roaring his challenge to the ghorst and anyone else who dared lay claim to it.

Only the ghorst replied, with the crack of rock and steel chains. Phalen gripped his trident and leaped into the chasm. He had no time for fear or hesitation, but by all the gods, the ghorst was immense. It had shattered half of its stone cocoon, thrashing against the steel chains embedded in its collar and multiplated harness. Its silver mane flowed, deceptively appearing soft. Phalen knew each blade would shred his skin.

The ghorst’s leathery wings spread wide, claws grasping. Its horns spread wide above his head, and huge teeth gnashed together, spilling out of its split jaws. Horns sprouted out of its already-hardened skin, across its shoulders and chest. An adult ghorst never slept nor rested from the moment it emerged until its death.

Phalen roared again, drawing the ghorst’s attention to him. Power flooded through his trident, brilliant silver light shining out around him. The ghorst’s eye glowed the same color, and Phalen bared his teeth in victory. Power shared was power controlled. The ghorst was already his. It just had to learn so…

Dogs in House	Houdini
Music	One Republic, “Counting Stars”
Time writing	~30 minutes, interrupted
April word count	10,731