Her Mantle Is Love

"I'd quite like to know who's been spreading it round
that I suffered a difficult evening while bound.
Discretion's important for anyone here,
who'll be seeing much weirder by this time next year."

"I heard it from Alice, who heard it from Kay,
who heard it from Cocoa: much more I can't say.
I'll not repeat it, I do have some tact:
but your secret is out, that's just a fact."

You pinch your nose: "It's quite alright,
I deserve some ribbing for that clumsy night -
But Portia deserves no part in my tale,
of an experienced priestess and her epic fail."

Ispea groans deeply. "Please, don't use those words.
This modern slang's strictly for the birds:
the humans around us, they just change so fast -
it's up to us all to remember their past."

Posy's mouth parts, then she reconsiders:
it seems she's been taken by a case of the jitters.
Examining her, something seems off:
she ducks her head and fakes a cough.

What could it be? Something with her ears?
Your train of thought catches a wrench in its gears.
This elf is a fake! Her ears are prosthetics!
A wannabe elf with human genetics?

You raise a finger, then pause yourself:
it's not your place to expose this ertsaz elf.
Though you might speak later, it's not a crime
to dress up in cosplay, and now's not the time.

You bite your scone with a bit too much force,
then chew thoughtfully while plotting your course.
Melody twitters about Cheri's new poi,
praising her dancing with undisguised joy.

Portia observes, in a gloomy tone,
that she wishes that she could sample a scone:
Ipsea pats her leg, one among many,
and agrees it's a shame that she can't have any.

You take your chance, and ask why she can't:
Portia just sighs: her knowledge is scant,
but she says the last batch caused her allergies:
she tried one and began to cough and to wheeze.

So she's sworn them off, till she knows that they're safe,
though Melody's thoughtlessness does rather chafe.

Melody coughs: "Well, I did recall,
but the recipe's my only one, that's all.
I'd surely make something that all could love,
but I'm a muse of writers, not cooks, my dove."

"Do you do public speaking?" you break in at once.
She frowns and nods: "Of course, you dunce.
Is there something that you would like announced?"
You sigh and nod: she's hit it unbeknownst.

She grits her teeth and frowns, under some hidden strain:
"Are you alright?" you ask, noticing her pain.
"It's fine," she says, hands on her temples:
"Just don't say orange, month, depth or false -

Fuck, shit," she continues, "I have to leave,
there's too many poets, there's too much to weave,
I can't hold this all and keep it in verse,
I don't have a plan, I didn't rehearse -"

Portia steadies her with one helpful leg,
while Ipsea smiles to see the muse down a peg:
Melody steadies, and lets out a growl:
"Rhyme isn't working - Fine! Let's do Howl."

Here in this garden,
rallied round by friends and rivals,
the muse gathers herself and manages at last to speak,
pouring forth some hidden thing from the recesses of a heart that was never meant to go unchanneled through another writer's pen,
muse and writer both in one woman, one angel -

"Things fall apart," she quotes, "the center cannot hold,
but I am a muse, and I will speak what I am given till my dying breath as is my charge and duty,
the wellspring of desire that beats in the breast of all who ever had thought to set to page -

Name me your charge, I have gone too long without a poet or a writer or a song or a pair of lips to call my own save mine."

In her eyes lies the great and terrible cyan fire of Inspiration,
that which grips the hand and mouth and forces meaning onto parchment,
desire into dance,
love into sex,
or poetry which is really just the same thing written down -

Here is the grand and terrible fire, asking for its charge,
and all you have is this small paltry thing,
lost in the vastness of it,
and you say -

"Write me a song that will charge the supplicants to lie with me morrow's morrow,
name the rite and the ritual of it and give it meaning,
give them understanding of what I would achieve,
and give it rhyme and meter that it will stay in their minds and be full known:
give me this, Muse, that I may serve the Goddess whose devotion burns in my heart,
brighter than the light even in your eyes."

And she smiles, and says -
"You do know that makes you my Author, right?"

"- As much as anyone can be, I suppose."

And she laughs, oh she laughs: "Ah, the right answer!"

The rest is rather a blur.

-----

You awake in a rosebush. There are fingernail marks all along your tanned stomach and thighs, dried and crusted with blood. The sun is setting.

Upon reflection, commissioning a work from a Muse Herself was maybe not the best plan.

You sit up, shoving aside brambles, and an errant thorn draws another painful scratch across your breast: you hiss in a breath, and - listen, you suppose. There's something - different about the air when Melody's around. Why on earth is she called Melody when she's a muse of writers, anyway? You shake your head: not even remotely the question you ought to be asking right now, which is "what the fuck, what happened, where is my dress, is everyone okay?"

- Melody's probably just fine, but you've heard enough tales of Maneads to fear for the other supplicants. And if you have these deep scratches...

"Ugh." You pick yourself up onto your feet, and do your best not to look selfconcious about your nudity as you scan the garden. What does it say that this doesn't even make your top ten for weirdest days you've had? Probably nothing good.

... well. There doesn't seem to be anyone here - you're not in the section where Ipsea's planted, not anymore - so. Priiiiorities.

[ ] Find some damn clothes.
[ ] Go for backup.
[ ] Try to find Melody.
[ ] Check in on the other supplicants and make sure they're okay.
[ ] Tend to your scratches and cuts.
[ ] Try to sort through what just happened to you.
[ ] ... Write-in?

A cursory check indicates that you still have all your limbs and that all the scratches and bruises are well below your Blessing's healing threshold. You've got nothing to worry about, at least physically.

Shaking your head, you try to call up any shred of memory still left to you -

- your lips meet halfway,

"...you can stop now, you know -"

fingers on your wrist,

Ipsea,

butterflyflicker,

"… goddess, she's dangerous."

- Portia blushing, Posy staring slack-jawed -

"...join us?"

- shiveryfluttery -

"...best if you make sure nobody else wanders in…"

"You're intoxicating -"

"...mind's your own."

"- well, fuck."

"...if you want to..."

Ipsea's concerned tones, "- step away from the muse -"

Melody, need written across her face. "- Yes, fuck yes. I -"

Ipsea's teasing smile. "- help with privacy?"

Two dresses, falling -

Slick petals beneath your feet -

"- fine just watching -"

Your hand, on Melody's breast, her eyes shining - "Claim me."

"- have to support both of you - "

Melody's knee between your thighs -

- stumbling -

- that easy care, like being a client -

- cyan-lightning eyes -

- nails -

Your train of thought derails completely at the phantom sensation, and you bite the inside of your cheek to try and clear your head.

- well, uh, you definitely had sex with Melody - and it was… probably consensual? You were definitely into it, at least… And Ipsea was spotting? You think she was spotting, yeah. She probably would have stopped anything really bad, right?

You let out a heavy breath. Well, at least you ought to know where your dress should be now. How did you end up in these rose bushes, though? - not relevant, Ipsea ought to know what happened.

You test your feet in the clinging earth - yeah, you're steady enough. Barefoot, but there aren't too many stones. If you're careful, you should be okay.

-----

Ipsea grins when she catches sight of you. "The priestess returns! Not too exhausted, I hope?"

You sigh. "More confused and unsettled than anything, honestly. What happened?"

"You and Melody were all over each other, just clearly infatuated - you had your hands on each other's thighs and were making out in front of the whole table, I mean honestly -"

You blink. "Uhhh. - did Melody initiate? I'm - that thing she does with the poetry, did she fuck with my brain?"

Ipsea waves a hand quickly. "No, no, she doesn't do that - it's - she's beautiful and intense but she's mundanely so, Eli. I mean, part of that is muse's gift, but it's nothing that a human couldn't achieve. She's poetic and powerful, but it's in the ways that any charismatic person can be if they want to. And if she really focuses in on you with all that attention of hers - "

- those electric eyes -

You nod, a thrill running down your spine. "Yeah."

"You, my dear, got starstruck. I think she did too. Do you have some artistic talent, by any chance?"

"I, uh, I play the violin?"

"That's probably what she caught. She's really attracted to artists, especially authors, though anything that involves words is powerful. Do you sing, by any chance?"

"Well, a little. I'm not any good, my violin sings for me -"

Ipsea raises an eyebrow. "That's actually more tempting for her: it's the aspiration that's attractive. So yes, I think she was just as intoxicated by you as you were by her. You commissioned her! She needs artists and fans, and you said you wanted her art - that's the next best thing to sex, to a Muse. What do they teach you priestesses at courtesan school, anyway?"

You sigh. "Apparently I haven't been paying as much attention as I needed to. Is everyone okay? We didn't drag in anyone else?"

"Posy might be mildly scandalized - speaking of which, here's your dress - and I think Portia might be feeling a bit jealous? But otherwise, no, no ill effects I know of. Melody's very happy and she's stopped doing the - rhyming thing? It's a bit strange."

"- How did I end up in a rosebush?"

"Well, you went off looking for your clothes, even though I still had them? You and Melody were both very giggly afterwards, just intoxicated with each other - I had Lily get Melody to bed, I expected you'd find a Sister or be okay on your own. I was going to send Lily to check up on you when she got back - damn roots - "

You shrug on your dress, and clasp it, settling it properly into place.

"- alright, that's… less bad than I'd feared. I - it's all a mess in my head, for a few minutes I was afraid I'd been - you know -"

Ipsea shakes her head. "It was a pretty simultaneous initiation, from what I saw - maybe you wouldn't have done it if you were less stressed or less attracted to her, but I mean, I let you two have sex inside my flower. I wouldn't have - helped her rape you?" She bites her cheek. "- sorry, now I'm second-guessing myself . As far as I could tell, you seemed as into it as her. You did shove her against my flower pretty aggressively at one point..."

You blush intensely. "Uhhhh…"

"- anyway, I'm sure you had more questions."

(Vote for as many as you want.)
[ ] "Where's Melody now?"
[ ] "Where's Portia now?"
[ ] "Where's Posy now?"
[ ] "- since I'm doing the Rite day after tomorrow, is there anyone I really ought to see? Who has - issues like Melody's that I'm likely to trip over?"
[ ] "- how do you know she's not mind-affecting?"
[ ] "What about whatever your pheromones or pollen or whatever does?"
[ ] "Are you okay?"
[ ] "- do my sisters know I'm okay?"
[ ] Write-in.

[ ] Optionally, write in a plan of action once you finish talking with Ipsea.

How do you feel about what happened with Melody? (Vote for as many as you want.)
[ ] Nobody really got hurt, and you had sex with a beautiful Muse. What's wrong with that? Overall, you're fine with what happened.
[ ] You ought to have had more control, as a priestess. You were lucky rather than competent: it's an embarrassing slip.
[ ] - you initiated? Did you… you were worrying about yourself, but is Melody okay? You didn't - do something awful, did you?
[ ] - Goddess, does Melody think she raped you? She might, you just had the thought yourself in the other direction - you need to tell her you're okay with what happened!
[ ] You're not so concerned for yourself - you're worried for the people who had to watch you make out with her! Portia's already feeling bad enough: going and putting your hands all over Melody right in front of her is likely to have made things worse. And Posy was "scandalized", apparently... you really ought to go talk to them both.
[ ] If Melody knew she was an intense kind of person and that she was very attracted to budding artists, she ought to have told you up-front: that way you could have maybe avoided this whole thing. You don't think she was malicious, but as a candidate priestess she ought to have been more careful.
[ ] It was clear you were intoxicated with Melody. Even if Melody was herself infatuated with you, Ipsea ought to have had enough sense to keep the two of you from just blundering ahead. This shouldn't have happened, and Ipsea deserves some of the blame.
[ ] You don't buy that Melody was as infatuated with you as you were with her, especially given that you've ended up unintentionally rhyming with her more than once in the past. You feel used and hurt.
[ ] Write-in.