Awakening: Nikey & Tee (The Tuatha de Danann Saga Book 1)

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His weakening was nothing so obvious that the girls could tell. He knew though, that it was bite the bullet time. She always told everyone in the city she lived in Scarsdale because most knew it and she didn't feel like explaining Dobbs Ferry. Her train was scheduled to leave at pm, peak fare fifteen dollars and twenty cents. She didn't feel like waiting for off-peak besides the difference was only three dollars anyway. Funny thinking how even the rich cared about saving on a fare.

She called home to let them know she'd be getting in at around twenty to six, in her mind seeing her mom take out the schedule to get her arrival down to the exact second. Shortly after lining up to wait for the gate to open two construction workers in trademark beat up yellow hard hats, grubby work boots, and cut off shirts approached. Answering with a little attitude. What you guys want? Join up? Both men's eyes took in the sights politely in their way. We wanted to know if it was real or not, some corporate PR crap.

It may have looked neat on TV an in the papers. They never show the people who get hurt, almost killed. It's only fun after it's over. Got a marker? One of the men, taller of the two, went and bought one. You guys steel workers, right? She pointed at their waists. It helped pass the time and it was fun, except by the time everyone who was interested had her signature she almost missed the train. Alice had to dash at a run to get on the last car right as it was pulling out. Dobbs Ferry is one of those old bedroom communities that has been around forever.

A town with Dutch colonial architecture and red brick homes nestled against the Hudson River. The principle appeal of Dobbs Ferry these days is the good schools with proximity to the city, meaning it had gotten congested over the years. For those with the cash who could afford property for a home, it was the best of. Not much happened as written. Or will happen. Trust me! You will find out eventually. This blog is in proper sequential order. Top to bottom, page 1 through whatever. I play with the dates and times to make it that way. I find the way this blog automatically lays out, rather a bother to read.

And no, I didn't write the whole thing in Irish dialect! I 'ken' A word I didn't use much, until recently. I generally say 'nu'. I can't if I want to get my tales across. Now will I write more? Aye, but no more books. It's like a continuation, and it would really be nice if you read the above BEFORE you read what's after this post, to be more 'clued in' on what it's all about. Like would ya watch part 2 of the 's Batman episodes first, or watch Flash Gordon in random order? It might also help if you're Irish, or Greek, or Pagan, or 'alternative', or emo, or Goth, or you hate life, or you're an iconoclast, or if you want your brain scrambled.

After all, I do go all out, no holds barred if no one gets hurt, OK? We all do! Oh, and one more thing! Don't ask me any stupid questions. Ah, an' if yer want me series in audio, yer can go ter De Gothic Writers' Guild. Naw, 'tis not me readin' it. Me voice is 'igher, me accent is Oirish, an' Oi blather lashings faster. Also, any formattin' errors or missed chapters are not me fault, aye? De lass who owns dis site might git it straightened oyt wan day. If not, Oi forgive 'er. She's a pure jammers lady, an' yes; dis is free. After al', waaat chucker Oi nade wi' nicker? Or shud Oi say, 'After all, what do I need with money'?

Imagine being fed only small pieces of worm infested biscuits, rotten gruel, and ancient salted meat not fit for maggots, and only being given bracken water or urine to drink. If we refused to eat, we had our teeth knocked out, and were force-fed through a funnel. You are branded, and chained, forced to stand or kneel in your own waste and vomit, for there was no room to lie down Not that we did lie down if we still had the strength to stand. The floor of the hold was too vile, but at least later I could kneel or sit to sleep.

Those of us who were too tall had to kneel, for the roof of the hatch was low! We couldn't go to the bathroom without going on someone else. You aren't a person. You're property. Nothing more. If you fought for your freedom if just to try to jump into the sea when you were brought on deck, you might have had a limb cut off for rebelling, not that I stood a chance, being a small woman.

I'd also been dragged on deck a number of times to be raped, for I was a pretty one. Twice, I were raped by one who was chained behind me, but those men were killed before they were even finished with me, perhaps by the one who was behind them. I was in no state to notice, but it was one of the few things that made me happy, though I never found whom my vindicators were.

I might as well have been a sack of flour. I was ill, and festering. I wasn't sure I was going to make it across the Atlantic alive. I lost track of time long ago, so I had no idea how long I'd been here. I hadn't even been on deck, except for the times I was raped by the ranking crewmembers after having cold ocean water thrown on me to rinse me off the worst of the refuse that had been clinging to me. My name was Aisling Nolan. A poor young girl on the verge of womanhood who was in the wrong place, at the wrong time!

I'd been kidnapped in Aberdeen, Scotland, and I was on a ship to work the sugar plantations of Barbados. After more than half of us had died in my time out of time, I heard a call on us docking. I don't know if that was good news. I was told by the first mate as he ravished me and ripped me apart; that on the sugar plantations, if you didn't do was expected, you'd get whipped, and left naked in the tropical sun to finish your day's work.

He said I was also going to be raped by the black overseers to have babies for my master. I planned to kill every one of them. If I couldn't kill myself before it happened, anyway. Yes, I had more water thrown on me along with the rest of us after we were hauled on deck, and I was handled rough as I was taken off the ship with my fellow slaves, not that this did much to really clean us off.

It only got rid of the worst. We were still in chains as we were led off the ship. That part of my nightmare came to be as expected! What came next; was not. A few minutes after I was I was taken off the ship, 'the line' was stopped. A beautiful, young, longhaired, red-blond, well-dressed man pointed to me. He was holding some sort of cloth. He gave the captain some gold coins, and the ring around my neck was unlatched. I collapsed. She's mine. Would I be shown some sympathy? I guess so. The cloth the man was holding me was like a friar's robe.

He helped put it on me, and then he picked me up to carry me to his horse Well decide later. The man put me on his mount, and got up behind me. He'd handled me very gently. I was on the grounds of a huge estate with many trees, and a grand house. The man behind me dismounted, and helped me down from Hesper, as his pony was called. It was a strange name I'd never heard of.

I fell to the ground, and was too weak to stand, not that I could have walked very well after the long ride, never having been on a horse before. The man who bought me picked me up, and as he held me in his arms, he told another man of long, fiery hair, "Stefan! Can you groom Hesper for me?

BLADE HONER TRAILER

It looks like I'm going to be busy for a while. Stefan scowled. This one isn't for the fields. I was taken to a room on the ground floor with flattened, cobbled stone, a drainage grid in the floor, a strange, hollowed seat was by the wall, and there was a sink, a tub, a bench, and a mirror. There were bars of soap, and strange bottles of viscous liquids by the tub, and fancy perfume bottles, a brush, and a glass by the sink.

I was led to the sink, and given a strange box with a brush of sorts inside, and a capped metal tube. I jumped back in shock, never having seen anything like this. Put the brush in the glass after you're done to use later. How do you get the water like that? It has something to do with water pressure, and the levers are used to stop it, or the room would flood.

The paper next to it is to clean up until you get another bath, and after Better than an outhouse. As for the water of the sink and tub, the lever on the right is cold water the lever on the left is hot. Back home, my master was rich, but he had nothing like this. Will I be the same, here? Clean your teeth! I opened the tube, and put some of what was in it on the brush.

It smelled nice. Like mint. After I put the box down that had contained the brush, Vergil took it, and threw it into an empty basket by the sink. I took the brush to my teeth. It tasted almost sweet. It was pleasant. My teeth!

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They were yellow and brown, and I'd lost some of them. After I was finished cleaning them, they were white, when I looked into the mirror. My mouth was also pain free, and I saw white stubs at every space where I'd lost my teeth. It came out fast, and it scared me. He tested the temperature, and adjusted the levers. The water is warm. That was horrible, what was done to you and the others. More than half of you died on the voyage, as usual. I'd stop the slave trade if I could, but it's beyond me.

I was so weak, I didn't know if I'd be able to get out of it again after I was finished. Vergil handed me the soap, and a washcloth which I have no idea where he got, from. The soap smelled very nice. Like some sort of flower, and I'd never seen anything like it. The liquid for my hair was thick, and it also smelled pleasant and foamed up a lot. I never dreamed anything like this could exist, and it was nice. Vergil barely paid attention to me, and seemed off in his own world as I had my bath. After a while, he came over, he turned the water off, and let what there was drain out.

Then he hit another lever, poured another liquid into the tub, and turned the water on again. The water foamed, and was oily, but it smelled good. You don't feel sick anymore either, right? This was bizarre. From the vilest circumstances a girl could be in, I was transferred into a place that was beyond the dreams of royalty. Did I still want to die? But what was in store for me?


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An Irishman, on top of that, despite his odd, not very Irish name! Vergil had said my skin would heal. I did feel good, now; under this hot, oiled, soapy, pleasantly scented water. When Vergil came back, he was carrying a bag. He placed it carefully on the bench. I suppose I was. Your hair, too! Hold your head under the faucet when I get the water right. After I got out, he gave me a large towel to dry off, and then he went back to the bench.

Animals are our brothers and sister. I never got much meat, anyway. At least I had clothes to wear, got enough to eat, and a roof over my head. That was more than most of my impoverished class had, and I was glad for it even though I received no salary. My life could have been much worse, for the time.

As it had, after I was kidnapped for the slave ship. That was the ultimate nightmare. I kept the towel wrapped around me, as Vergil motioned me toward the bench. Black, satin silk, laced panties. It was considered a wasted effort. I myself had only two dresses and a bonnet. Vergil had bought it. I put the panties on. I looked at him, and then went to the mirror. I opened my towel, and I was stunned! I looked a bit more filled out than the last I time I saw myself. I was positively beautiful. I looked so perfect. I had milky skin with a few freckles here and there, not that they looked bad.

I bought you, put you on my pony, brought you here, helped you to the ground, led you to this room, and you did the rest. You look like what you look like! Would you like to finish getting dressed?

Isle of the Mighty (Book)

I wrapped the towel up around myself again, and walked back to the bench. I went back to the bench, and Vergil handed me a very strange pair of black, soft shiny stockings that went all the way up to the waist, and were put on like pants. Next he handed me thick, leg hugging stocking that would go halfway up my calves. I took them, and put them on. This was so odd. I put the towel on the bench, and looked down at my form-fitting outfit.

I had no idea if this was it. I scowled. He winked, and pulled a set of black breeches from the bag. Better for you, for now. We only have one kind of saddle here.

Fictional cats

How did you do this? These are practical clothes. Want to look at yourself again? I went back to the mirror, and I really liked what I saw. I had to pull it over my head, and tie some thick white strings around my neck to secure it. I then went back to the sink and sprayed one of the perfumes on my wrist. I loved it. I put some on my neck, and in my hair. He cocked his head. There was a long table, and some people were already eating. There was also a white man with glowing red eyes who looked just like Vergil, Stefan was there, and a beautiful black couple.

There were rich sauces, breads, teakettles, and pitchers of different coloured, fruity smelling liquids. Help yourself to whatever you want. Everyone waved at me. I looked at the table. He shrugged, and took a plate. He put rice on it, poured a thick green, soupy vegetable over it, spooned out some lentils in a yellow sauce, some battered, fried vegetable, and some other vegetables in a thick, yellow sauce.

He put a thin piece of oily bread with bits of garlic and onion on it on my plate, and put it before me. Then he poured some tea into my cup, and a cloudy white liquid in my glass. He put the same things on his own plate, and I waited for him to come back before I started eating. I ended up having three platefuls, and a desert of what I was told was passionfruit mousse pie with whipped cream.

I shrugged. Hours ago, I was almost dead. He also seemed to be struggling not to laugh. Vergil looked at him. Stefan nodded, laughing quite hard. Take a break and recover from your horrid journey to this place. Stef, I think Shiva would be good for Aisling to ride. Stefan closed his eyes. He also had a stripe going down his back, and a black nose.

A halter was put on him, along with a real light saddle. Vergil told me never to kick him, or handle him rough. I was warned if I did such a thing, I would end up being thrown, and possibly attacked. In fact, it was suggested that I just give him the lead, and let him do what he wanted with no input from me.

When we rode away from the house, we went to the back of it. There was a wide trail we took, in a heavily wooded forest. The trees also looked different. It was almost like back home in Aberdeen, but a little warmer. Why you bought me! You paid a high price for me in gold! I saw it. I never thought of it. I used to think only of survival. After my parents more or less sold me to Master Phillip Devon, I just had to finish the tasks they gave me.

I mostly had to clean things, like scrub the floors, dishes, dust, and laundry. I was also sent to market, and delivered messages. When I was on my way to the market, I was abducted for the slave ship. It happened all the time. I was well fed, and I got a small room with a pallet that I only had to share with one other servant lass.

Mistress Sarah Devon liked me, too. Water had to be gotten from the well, and heated; and they only had baths during the warm months, maybe once every week or two. Usually everyone used washbasins, and I only had soap from lye and lard. Nothing about him is natural. In fact, so am I.

Am I still where I was, or in your land. You are in my native realm. I also have another name, but that will wait a little while. Why am I here, not that I have any complaints. This is a fortune too good to be true. It is your destiny. You were to meet me when you were sixteen. You might be the same as he, in some respects. Mostly art.

Celtic Mythology: The Tuatha de Danann ¦ Mythic Origins of the Irish People (5/6)

We play music, we paint and draw, and other things. The dirt trail became cobbled, and it was never like that. Also, the house was gone. In its place was a castle, and there was a moat around it. Vergil extended a hand to me. Not the illusion I had you see earlier. The trees, the cold, everything. Just west of it, across the sea to the southwest of the isle of Eire.

I knew the legends. Welcome to my home. I also got off Shiva. Donn opened his arms, and invited me into his embrace. After we wrapped ourselves around each other, I came to know everything that happened and why in this life, my last life, and all others before it. I also knew this had been my last, thank the gods! Thanatos and I were just sitting on the couch of the Akashic Castle, each with an arm around each other, sharing thoughts wordlessly, when Thanatos jerked up. You wear a tan 18thth century hybrid. Black and tan riding boots, with the top band of the boots tan, a dark brown cloak, and an epee at your side.

I closed my eyes, scanned what Thanatos envisioned, and my black tunic was replaced by a not quite historically accurate, but stylish suit of a pre-Victorian gentleman. Shortly after, Thanatos was also redressed, and what a handsome, and impressive picture he was. When we went to Stefan, he was pacing, and raging in the holographic garden on the lowest basement floor. Stefan whirled on us, with a scowl on his face. Your present state of mind is not becoming of you. Especially since you declared that you were over that thing you call your incubator.

He was in his part time fangs, for the moment. Burned the address, and decided that was that. I never told her what I thought of her. We lived at opposite ends of the country. She was in Carthage, North Carolina that year. I am severely bothered right now over the fact that I never really settled this with either her or myself.

Would you like to give her the CD you and Kevin did when you were alive that never sold one copy? Your fangs! She realised the error of her ways and did a much better job raising her last child. After all, he was an officer and a gentleman. Not only did he make a lot of money, he also helped her clean the house. Yeah, I looked the kid up once. A ranked golfer, whiz at school, BS in psychology and she also had a crotch dropping in her 20s.

Talk about throwing your life away. She is a bit better adjusted than you are at the moment, dude! I crossed my arms. You two are absolutely gorgeous in that quasi-Victorian look. Not quite Dracula-esque enough for my taste, though. I almost would rather go off and do another painting of you, though I want the horses in the background, lightly tacked. Thanatos looked at me, and winked. I nodded, came behind Stephanie, and held her from there, with my left arm doing my best to include Thanatos in my embrace. He scraped the side of her jaw with his now all too human teeth. It was so quiet, dark, and so serene, where mists from beneath the floor were perpetually vented up, and those mists were very thick up to our knees.

The mists were scented differently, depending on what three-dimensional picture image of what flower was before us. The room was lit up by the holograms themselves, and additional torches of different flames, like what had been in my garden of Tech Duinn. The only thing I missed was a chance to see the sun set, but that was all right. I could go somewhere else to see that if I really wanted to. Of course we had our benches and lit fountains. No, there were no gazebos in this garden.

We left those behind at Tech Duinn. They were there for shade, and protection from the rain, sleet, snow, or hail. Being this was an indoor garden of illusion, there was no practical application whatsoever for having gazebos, so no one manifested any. We were walking hand in hand, and Stephanie was between us. They got thrashed several times a day. Once your brother was even inspired to jump out of a second storey window to escape her wrath. He embraced Stephanie again. Time for my confession! I wanted to wait until after this walk, but I might as well get it over with.

How she never came to us. I will also admit some of those reasons are not honourable at all. So can we drop it? Sort of? Or just revel quietly in your antipathy, and do what you gotta do? I chuckled. Also sounds like the last thing anyone needs here is to get this resolved. After all, ultimately there is only one soul. Trust me. All of our stuff, including everything everyone did from Andre to Warren.

Then you and me can bring Stef to the right realisation. Of course he wore socks under his skates. There were no illusions involving holographic lights, or time-trip tricks. He skated like a mortal, and due to his superior strength and speed, he left me in the dust; considering he could now not only do everything I could do, but more.

I went next, and changed into my favourite black silk tunic before going on the ice. I played some old favourite, more progressive rock tunes of ours. Come on! He smiled. He ended up donning a loose-sleeved poet shirt, and a kilt. He put a tartan design on his skates, as well. His performance was impeccable. His grace matched mine, though he kept the routines pretty tame. There would be no aerials, even though by now he could do them as well as I, for instance.

As Stefan was finishing up, Thanatos got up, and skated over to him. In a few seconds, Stef would be a woman in a flowing, black, silk and sheer knee length dress. Her skates went black, to match the outfit. Thanatos was still in his shorts and stripes. They ice-danced together. The two of them almost had me in tears; the performance was so captivating. When it was over, Thanatos immediately changed back to his not quite Victorian outfit he had worn earlier, cloak included, and motioned me over to them. He had an arm wrapped around Stephanie. The three of us ended up in one of the halls of Tech Duinn.

We were by the exit to the garden, just around the corner from the spa. Thanatos kissed Stephanie on the cheek, and then manoeuvred his lips to where her right shoulder met her neck. He scraped his teeth over that part of her, and caressed her in such a way to set her on fire. Hell, he set me on fire. Stephanie lifted her left foot, which no longer had skating blades on the ends of her boots. None of us did. I got behind her, pressed myself against her, wrapped my left arm around her, and did my best to get Thanatos with my right.


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I lipped her ear. Is it the winter, love? No, there was not a mark on her. He looked at me, smiled, and we were suddenly on the other side of the door of the spa, totally un-attired. I went into the water first. I flipped the tan switch to release the oil into the turbulent water. Thanatos went in next, and he left a space between us for Stephanie, not that it was needed.

When she was about to sit down, Thanatos pushed her toward me. She pointed at me, looked at Thanatos, and he smiled, and nodded. She looked at me, verified I was ready, and straddled me. We embraced each other, as she rested her head on my right shoulder, and kept me delicately titillated via occasional, sporadic contractions.

Thanatos stood up, and pressed himself behind her. He kissed her on top of the head. I know it was all planned in advance, though you did end up regretting those plans since it is harder to actually live through what you had in store for yourself as opposed to just theoretically thinking about it.

We also know I am no fan of child abuse, or abuse of any kind, for that matter. I love it when you use it for your creativity, but sometimes it just eats you up inside. Just remember right now, frozen in time, out of time. You can have this again and again, and the woman you used to bring you to us will never remotely have a clue that such a moment could exist, or that The Akashic Castle could exist, or our lovely Tech Duinn, or our part of The White City, or any of our adventures existed.

When you are destined to meet again, the creature that was your mother will have blended with others, and will have lost that individual part of her identity, as you will have lost the individuality you have, now. He had his fangs back, and he left a slight scratch, though he drew no blood. We went from the spa straight to Nirvana to become one soul, for a while. There is nothing left. Everything has been destroyed. Considering how it happened, I suppose I don't care very much.

I saw it coming. You can't clean a place up and leave it to a bunch of hypocritical, lazy, power tripping, ideal-razing jerks who refuse to see the link between cause and effect. I'll not condemn you if you played no part in the fall, though I do see there are not many of you. What the Hell is wrong with you? I've got a right hand. A left too, for that matter; and I don't have to take it to a movie or take it out to dinner before making use of either. So if you don't mind.

It's what you're supposed to do, but so many societies try to make sure you don't. But for many, there is no future. Sometimes, things happen. A house fire? Lose everything? That can slap one into the right perspective. So can living under siege. Or with a terminal disease, or failed crops when you have nowhere to go.

They are prepared for anything and everything with just a wee bit of knowledge. Life is temporary, and existence is eternal. You're from a place. So you choose to come. Not only that, but you fight to stay there like your life, I mean your existence depended on it, and cling to your prison with more cohesion than a starving tick and Epoxy combined. Aye, makes sense to me. Yer nu, Oi'm really beginnin' ter luk forward ter retirement in me auld age.

Oi want someone's noggin on a plate!!!!!!!!!!!! Got my mixin' dialects as bad as. What is better? To pay for the future with a past, or to pay for the past with a future? Or change 'to pay' to 'to get rewarded'. How much time? How much frustration? How much work? How much pain? And what's worth more?

What has been done, or what can be done that I refuse? An explanation of how fucked up a society the world is. Status conscious materialistic fools who judge not themselves or others by their accomplishments, but by what they own. Not that anyone owns anything. It's all borrowed real estate, dudes. It's not just the Western world. After the non-industrialised world sees the industrialised world, everyone wants in.

To see one is slaving over a desk for you, worshipping you with graphite or pen in word or picture. To lock eyes, and just know. A finger caressed down a cheek, or a hand run through the hair. A call to an intricate meal you had no idea was coming. A flask of attar waved under your nose, with a promise. To be so aware of an appreciation so powerful, where there is no cause to focus on one's own sensations that have nothing to do with 'other'.

To see the tears of having been missed. To be invited into the sweetest embrace. A contemplation so rare in actuality. How many of the Tuatha de Danaan sit down, and really think of this? Or how many of the mortal flotsam that make up humanity? For most it's fiction. A thing of dreams. It's in books, cinema, plays, operas, ice dances, but no part of reality.

Oh, there are exceptions, but how rare to understand the entire feeling or motivation of the instigator. And how many instigatees care enough to truly reciprocate? And what was the motivation of the original move? Was it conditional? Was something expected? If so, that debases the moment to nothing. So why did it all happen, it is wondered. Payback for something too good to be true for it has not been experienced in memory? The unconditional? A desire to harness power greater than can be dreamed of?