“All that time I was gone, a part of me wanted so badly to get back here and take my old life back because.. I mean it had been stolen from me. I never really got a chance to say goodbye and let it go. I sort of built myself a new life in Faerie, but it wasn’t a life of my own choosing. It was a life of necessity. So when I came back here and had a chance to take back what was once mine? Of course I grabbed at it. Even the very idea that those old dreams could be my reality again.." Jewell trailed off.
"That was unrealistic. Everyone seems to think I am that same girl. And I do look the same, talk the same, laugh the same as that other girl.. but there’s never truly going to be any going back for me. I’m not the same. I’ve managed to recapture pieces of that girl’s life since she is still a part of me, but I can’t just go back and pretend everything in the between hasn’t happened. It has. And you know what? I’m okay with it. I have to be okay with it. I’ve taken back what I can and now it’s time to build something new with the old.”
A Checkup From the Neck Up
Moderators: Bailey Raptis, JewellRavenlock
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JewellRavenlock
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JewellRavenlock
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“Here’s the problem as I see it. I've had hundreds of years to come to terms with everything: the end of our relationship, leaving RhyDin, what happened to the children,” amazingly, she was able to say it out loud without turning into a complete teary mess. “I won’t say I was happy with any of it, but I have learned to accept it. I think Stephen tried to move on, but he hasn't had enough time. It’s like.. he sees me and suddenly all that we went through together just happened yesterday for him. And it’s confusing as hell. I get that. I really do because sometimes I feel it too, that the past is just within reach. And for a moment I feel like that girl again and that there’s nothing standing in the way of us being together or me just resuming my life the way it was before. But then there's all this.." she grasped for the word, "living that I have done. Too much living to make going back possible. But Stephen doesn't have that, so he's clinging to the past. He's blinded by the temptation of it. Suddenly, he needs to do something about it, right all those wrongs that he just let lie."
“Do you ever think that maybe he truly does love you? That’s why he can’t let go?”
“No,” Jewell’s brow furrowed and she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it. I’ve thought about this.. a lot. And here’s the problem I find. Even before I left RhyDin, we weren’t together. Maybe a part of both of us wanted to be.. but it wasn’t working. And he was moving on already then. He had met Diana. I knew they were.. something when I went to him that night, that night when I watched everything burn. And I knew he loved me, but I also knew.. I believed that he would be able to move on.”
“But did he?”
“Yes. I mean, he married someone mere months after I left. Isn’t that proof enough?” Jewell wasn’t just stating it, she was truly asking. She was seeking confirmation of the truth she was trying to create out of her muddled life.
Helen reluctantly agreed, “It does seem like he was able to move on, at least on the surface. But how do you account for his actions now, then? If he isn’t in love with you, Jewell, he is doing a fabulous job of pretending to be.”
“Simple,” Jewell sat back against the couch cushions, arms crossing at her chest as she stated the answer to everything: “Glamour.”
“Glamour?” Dr. Bronner was puzzled. “Isn’t that a part of your magic?”
“Mmhmm..”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what it has to do with the situation.”
Jewell relaxed her arms, running a hand through her hair as she tried to think of the best way to explain this simply. “Okay. So glamour is a major part of any Faerie of Fae’s magic. We don’t consider it magic, but that’s really a discussion for another time. A portion of glamour is illusion magic; it’s what lets me change my appearance and even my physical size, although this,” she gestured to herself, “is as large as I can physically become. I can do more than simple illusions like that though; I can craft full-scale illusions, so life-like that if I stabbed you with my glamoured sword, I could kill you.” She wrinkled her nose, “I’m sure that sounds confusing, but the point I was trying to get at is that glamour is about illusions, but it is also so much more than that. It is something that is intrinsic to me and it can have an effect on people. Say.. making someone desire me and me only. I can make that happen willingly, but part of it is also beyond my control because of the inherent nature of it.”
“I think I’m following you..” Helen trailed off though because she wasn’t quite sure where the conversation was heading.
“Basically, I can affect people without meaning to. People, especially mortals, are drawn to my glamour. For some, it just means they are attracted to my personality and they enjoy being around me. But it can go further than that. Some can become enchanted..”
“Wait. You think Stephen Kidd is simply enchanted by you, under some glamoured spell?” Jewell nodded. “I am sorry dear, but I really cannot believe that. I think you have missed the mark on this one.”
She held her hands up, “Just hear me out. I separate from Stephen and we spend a lot of time apart. He starts seeing someone else. I then leave RhyDin, taking myself completely out of his life, and he is able to really move on with his life. He gets married. He’s happy enough, I think.”
“Okay..”
“Then I come back. Suddenly? He’s in love with me. He makes a mess of his marriage because he wants to be with me.. or does he? He’s not even sure.” Rather than be proud of her ability to entrap a man so, Jewell looked close to being physically ill as she continued with her theorizing. “The longer I’m here.. the more mad he is driven until he’s gone off on this wild chase after I don’t even know what.” Dr. Bronner wasn’t fully convinced, but there was something to Jewell’s telling of events that made her hesitate from challenging the woman. “I have done some truly despicable things in my life, but I hate myself the most for coming back to this place and doing that to someone I love.”
“Do you ever think that maybe he truly does love you? That’s why he can’t let go?”
“No,” Jewell’s brow furrowed and she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it. I’ve thought about this.. a lot. And here’s the problem I find. Even before I left RhyDin, we weren’t together. Maybe a part of both of us wanted to be.. but it wasn’t working. And he was moving on already then. He had met Diana. I knew they were.. something when I went to him that night, that night when I watched everything burn. And I knew he loved me, but I also knew.. I believed that he would be able to move on.”
“But did he?”
“Yes. I mean, he married someone mere months after I left. Isn’t that proof enough?” Jewell wasn’t just stating it, she was truly asking. She was seeking confirmation of the truth she was trying to create out of her muddled life.
Helen reluctantly agreed, “It does seem like he was able to move on, at least on the surface. But how do you account for his actions now, then? If he isn’t in love with you, Jewell, he is doing a fabulous job of pretending to be.”
“Simple,” Jewell sat back against the couch cushions, arms crossing at her chest as she stated the answer to everything: “Glamour.”
“Glamour?” Dr. Bronner was puzzled. “Isn’t that a part of your magic?”
“Mmhmm..”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what it has to do with the situation.”
Jewell relaxed her arms, running a hand through her hair as she tried to think of the best way to explain this simply. “Okay. So glamour is a major part of any Faerie of Fae’s magic. We don’t consider it magic, but that’s really a discussion for another time. A portion of glamour is illusion magic; it’s what lets me change my appearance and even my physical size, although this,” she gestured to herself, “is as large as I can physically become. I can do more than simple illusions like that though; I can craft full-scale illusions, so life-like that if I stabbed you with my glamoured sword, I could kill you.” She wrinkled her nose, “I’m sure that sounds confusing, but the point I was trying to get at is that glamour is about illusions, but it is also so much more than that. It is something that is intrinsic to me and it can have an effect on people. Say.. making someone desire me and me only. I can make that happen willingly, but part of it is also beyond my control because of the inherent nature of it.”
“I think I’m following you..” Helen trailed off though because she wasn’t quite sure where the conversation was heading.
“Basically, I can affect people without meaning to. People, especially mortals, are drawn to my glamour. For some, it just means they are attracted to my personality and they enjoy being around me. But it can go further than that. Some can become enchanted..”
“Wait. You think Stephen Kidd is simply enchanted by you, under some glamoured spell?” Jewell nodded. “I am sorry dear, but I really cannot believe that. I think you have missed the mark on this one.”
She held her hands up, “Just hear me out. I separate from Stephen and we spend a lot of time apart. He starts seeing someone else. I then leave RhyDin, taking myself completely out of his life, and he is able to really move on with his life. He gets married. He’s happy enough, I think.”
“Okay..”
“Then I come back. Suddenly? He’s in love with me. He makes a mess of his marriage because he wants to be with me.. or does he? He’s not even sure.” Rather than be proud of her ability to entrap a man so, Jewell looked close to being physically ill as she continued with her theorizing. “The longer I’m here.. the more mad he is driven until he’s gone off on this wild chase after I don’t even know what.” Dr. Bronner wasn’t fully convinced, but there was something to Jewell’s telling of events that made her hesitate from challenging the woman. “I have done some truly despicable things in my life, but I hate myself the most for coming back to this place and doing that to someone I love.”
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JewellRavenlock
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The little flat shoe tapped out a irregular beat on the floor. “I know it’s not good to dwell in the past, Dr. Bronner, but if I could go back and do it all over again.. I’d do it differently this time.”
“I thought you don’t regret the actions you have taken, the things you have done, to get your children back.”
She didn’t even bat an eye. “I don’t. Not for one second. The only thing I regret is not being crueler, more aggressive, more destructive. Teach people a lesson they would have never forgotten. Made such a mess, burned so much to the ground, that never would anyone have ever dared to cross me again.”
“That sounds very similar to what you were condemning the alternate dimension version of yourself for just a month or two ago.”
“Maybe she was on to something. Burn the world, kill everyone. There certainly isn’t anyone to stab you in the back then.”
“Jewell..”
She managed a grim smile, “I’m joking, of course. Let me ask you, doctor: are you familiar with the story of Medea?”
Helen shook her head, “I don’t believe I have heard it.”
“Beautiful woman. A strong woman. And when her husband betrays her, she kills their children. Some say she does it out of revenge, but I believe she does it to protect them and herself from him.” Helen waited for the connection as Jewell mulled over the story before continuing, “That’s what I would do if I could go back and do things differently.”
“You would kill your children?” Dr. Bronner asked in disbelief.
“Yes. I see it like this; they gave me three choices: 1) I could do what I did, which is allow my family to press-gang me into servitude by keeping my children hostage. They told me if I behaved, I would get them back, but they never really meant that anyway since they had every intention of killing me. 2) I could have ignored their threats and not gone to Faerie. Not play their game. Then my children would have died at their hands as punishment, probably in a very cruel and public way, and I would live the rest of my life seeking revenge. 3) I could follow my children to Faerie and kill them myself. Then my family, without any leverage over me, would be at my mercy. There would be no controlling me. I am only vulnerable because the people I love are vulnerable, but when they are taken out of the equation, I am not vulnerable any longer. Instead, I am powerful.”
“Such a bleak way of looking at things, Jewell.”
“Realistic you mean.”
Helen smiled, “A bleak reality.”
“I thought you don’t regret the actions you have taken, the things you have done, to get your children back.”
She didn’t even bat an eye. “I don’t. Not for one second. The only thing I regret is not being crueler, more aggressive, more destructive. Teach people a lesson they would have never forgotten. Made such a mess, burned so much to the ground, that never would anyone have ever dared to cross me again.”
“That sounds very similar to what you were condemning the alternate dimension version of yourself for just a month or two ago.”
“Maybe she was on to something. Burn the world, kill everyone. There certainly isn’t anyone to stab you in the back then.”
“Jewell..”
She managed a grim smile, “I’m joking, of course. Let me ask you, doctor: are you familiar with the story of Medea?”
Helen shook her head, “I don’t believe I have heard it.”
“Beautiful woman. A strong woman. And when her husband betrays her, she kills their children. Some say she does it out of revenge, but I believe she does it to protect them and herself from him.” Helen waited for the connection as Jewell mulled over the story before continuing, “That’s what I would do if I could go back and do things differently.”
“You would kill your children?” Dr. Bronner asked in disbelief.
“Yes. I see it like this; they gave me three choices: 1) I could do what I did, which is allow my family to press-gang me into servitude by keeping my children hostage. They told me if I behaved, I would get them back, but they never really meant that anyway since they had every intention of killing me. 2) I could have ignored their threats and not gone to Faerie. Not play their game. Then my children would have died at their hands as punishment, probably in a very cruel and public way, and I would live the rest of my life seeking revenge. 3) I could follow my children to Faerie and kill them myself. Then my family, without any leverage over me, would be at my mercy. There would be no controlling me. I am only vulnerable because the people I love are vulnerable, but when they are taken out of the equation, I am not vulnerable any longer. Instead, I am powerful.”
“Such a bleak way of looking at things, Jewell.”
“Realistic you mean.”
Helen smiled, “A bleak reality.”
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JewellRavenlock
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“Well Jewell, it’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen you. I hope things have been going well?” Over the course of their sessions together, the winter cold had given way to warm air blowing in through the open windows, teasing the curtains into a dance.
The Faerie toyed absently with the hem of her light sundress, “Well enough.”
“So you haven’t just been missing from my office because you were off having some major meltdown and refusing to leave your house?”
“Not today,” she smirked. “Not at all, actually. I’ve just been keeping busy. You said that was the key to finding balance again, so that’s what I’ve been doing.”
“Oh? And how have you been keeping busy? Still training for the different dueling venues?”
“Some of that. Unfortunately, Kalamere lost his barony when I came back from my little trip, so no more sword fighting lessons from him.”
Helen tried to restrain her smile a little, “That must have been quite a loss for you.”
“It was. It really was,” Jewell sighed long-sufferingly, but there was something playful about the whole affectation: the tone of her voice, the upward turning of her lips at the corners, the relaxed curve of her shoulders. It was a nice change from the troubled young woman, seriously entrenched in her troubles, harming herself just to keep a measure of control. “I have the option of continuing to train with Claire, but.. well no offense to Claire, but I find Kal more attractive.”
“And is attractiveness a normal requirement for someone teaching you?” Helen couldn’t hide her amusement now.
“Of course not, Dr. Bronner,” Jewell scoffed. “Don’t be silly.” She paused a moment, her grin widening, “But it certainly doesn’t hurt.”
“Seems like it would be more of a distraction than anything,” the doctor countered.
Jewell shrugged, unabashed, “A welcome one.” There was no shame evident for the fact that she had perhaps been spending less time learning about sword fighting and more time studying the color of her teacher’s eyes. She liked that particular shade of blue.
“Do you still see your former teacher now that your training is over?”
“Kalamere? Yeah.. I suppose you could say I see him pretty often.” The way the doctor’s eyebrows rose in question caused Jewell to blush faintly. The constant stream of assumptions and insinuations regarding exactly what Jewell and Kalamere were up to together was infuriating at times, provoking this justification: “I mean, of course I still see him at the dueling venues. Sometimes we go out for a drink. Maybe he’ll walk me home, or I’ll stop by The Line just to say hi when he’s not too busy.”
“Sounds very nice and normal,” Helen ventured carefully.
“I guess.” She shook her head, her voice developing a defensive edge, “Look.. I don’t really spend hours and hours thinking it over every which way. I enjoy spending time with him, so I spend time with him. It’s really that simple: two people occasionally spending time together.”
Dr. Bronner lifted her hands up in a gesture meant to pacify her patient, “I apologize. I did not mean to offend.”
Jewell waved the gesture way, “No no. It’s not you. It just seems like everyone has something to say about how much time I’ve been spending with him and making a big deal about it. It’s a little ridiculous.”
“I’m sure your friends are just invested in your happiness.”
“Yeah,” she grabbed up a few strands of blue hair, braiding them together, “I know. They’re all nuts though and driving me crazy.”
“That’s what friends do.” The two women shared a wry smile. “So, why do you like spending time with Kalamere?”
“Why?” Her brow furrowed as her hands stilled, the little braid unraveling. Clearly, when she said that she didn’t spend hours thinking over whatever it was that she was doing with Kalamere, she meant it. He was her friend. Her friend who she happened to enjoy kissing. “Hmm.. did I mention that he’s good looking?”
Helen made a show of checking her notes, “Yes. Several times in fact.”
“Right.” She teased her lips with the tips of her hair. “I enjoy talking with him. Like.. he makes it easy to do because if I don’t want to talk about something, he’s going to push the issue. New subject, no problem.” Jewell relaxed into the couch, letting her captured hair fall back to her shoulder. “I guess we have some stuff in common, and he doesn’t seem easily put-off by crazy family or friends, who are his friends too.” She narrowed her eyes, focused on nothing, as she tried to pin down something else: “There’s also something a little mysterious about him. You don’t spend time with him once and know everything about him. I like that.”
“Probably keeps things interesting that way.”
“Yeah.. like there’s always something new to learn?” The inside of her cheek was subjected to a thoughtful little nibble. “Oh! I like that he hasn’t turned out to be some over-protective monster like most of the men in my life—friend, family, or other—transform into. I mean.. I know that I am small and that I’m not some sort of magical powerhouse anymore, but I’m pretty capable of taking care of myself. I remember there was this one guy I was maybe a little interested in,” apparently not very interested though because she couldn’t bother to remember his name, “and he pulled me off this girl I was fighting once. She had said something really insulting, and I had just started swinging.. and he grabbed me out of the fight!” The poor man, thinking to gain a few points by playing the white knight, had doomed any chance of spending time with the blue-haired Empress after that. “And Stephen always said he promised to take care of me, but I don’t need or want people to take care of me. It’s condescending and rude.”
“People feel protective of those they care about.”
“I know, I get that. I’m not saying I don’t want people to care, and it’s not like I haven’t acted that way towards other people too.” She grasped a moment to put her feelings into words, “Just... treat me like the adult that I am. I don’t need to be talked down to. I don’t need to be handled with kid gloves. And I don’t need to be protected.”
“Not even from yourself?” Helen challenged.
Her lips turned in a quirky smile, “I thought that’s what I had you for?”
The Faerie toyed absently with the hem of her light sundress, “Well enough.”
“So you haven’t just been missing from my office because you were off having some major meltdown and refusing to leave your house?”
“Not today,” she smirked. “Not at all, actually. I’ve just been keeping busy. You said that was the key to finding balance again, so that’s what I’ve been doing.”
“Oh? And how have you been keeping busy? Still training for the different dueling venues?”
“Some of that. Unfortunately, Kalamere lost his barony when I came back from my little trip, so no more sword fighting lessons from him.”
Helen tried to restrain her smile a little, “That must have been quite a loss for you.”
“It was. It really was,” Jewell sighed long-sufferingly, but there was something playful about the whole affectation: the tone of her voice, the upward turning of her lips at the corners, the relaxed curve of her shoulders. It was a nice change from the troubled young woman, seriously entrenched in her troubles, harming herself just to keep a measure of control. “I have the option of continuing to train with Claire, but.. well no offense to Claire, but I find Kal more attractive.”
“And is attractiveness a normal requirement for someone teaching you?” Helen couldn’t hide her amusement now.
“Of course not, Dr. Bronner,” Jewell scoffed. “Don’t be silly.” She paused a moment, her grin widening, “But it certainly doesn’t hurt.”
“Seems like it would be more of a distraction than anything,” the doctor countered.
Jewell shrugged, unabashed, “A welcome one.” There was no shame evident for the fact that she had perhaps been spending less time learning about sword fighting and more time studying the color of her teacher’s eyes. She liked that particular shade of blue.
“Do you still see your former teacher now that your training is over?”
“Kalamere? Yeah.. I suppose you could say I see him pretty often.” The way the doctor’s eyebrows rose in question caused Jewell to blush faintly. The constant stream of assumptions and insinuations regarding exactly what Jewell and Kalamere were up to together was infuriating at times, provoking this justification: “I mean, of course I still see him at the dueling venues. Sometimes we go out for a drink. Maybe he’ll walk me home, or I’ll stop by The Line just to say hi when he’s not too busy.”
“Sounds very nice and normal,” Helen ventured carefully.
“I guess.” She shook her head, her voice developing a defensive edge, “Look.. I don’t really spend hours and hours thinking it over every which way. I enjoy spending time with him, so I spend time with him. It’s really that simple: two people occasionally spending time together.”
Dr. Bronner lifted her hands up in a gesture meant to pacify her patient, “I apologize. I did not mean to offend.”
Jewell waved the gesture way, “No no. It’s not you. It just seems like everyone has something to say about how much time I’ve been spending with him and making a big deal about it. It’s a little ridiculous.”
“I’m sure your friends are just invested in your happiness.”
“Yeah,” she grabbed up a few strands of blue hair, braiding them together, “I know. They’re all nuts though and driving me crazy.”
“That’s what friends do.” The two women shared a wry smile. “So, why do you like spending time with Kalamere?”
“Why?” Her brow furrowed as her hands stilled, the little braid unraveling. Clearly, when she said that she didn’t spend hours thinking over whatever it was that she was doing with Kalamere, she meant it. He was her friend. Her friend who she happened to enjoy kissing. “Hmm.. did I mention that he’s good looking?”
Helen made a show of checking her notes, “Yes. Several times in fact.”
“Right.” She teased her lips with the tips of her hair. “I enjoy talking with him. Like.. he makes it easy to do because if I don’t want to talk about something, he’s going to push the issue. New subject, no problem.” Jewell relaxed into the couch, letting her captured hair fall back to her shoulder. “I guess we have some stuff in common, and he doesn’t seem easily put-off by crazy family or friends, who are his friends too.” She narrowed her eyes, focused on nothing, as she tried to pin down something else: “There’s also something a little mysterious about him. You don’t spend time with him once and know everything about him. I like that.”
“Probably keeps things interesting that way.”
“Yeah.. like there’s always something new to learn?” The inside of her cheek was subjected to a thoughtful little nibble. “Oh! I like that he hasn’t turned out to be some over-protective monster like most of the men in my life—friend, family, or other—transform into. I mean.. I know that I am small and that I’m not some sort of magical powerhouse anymore, but I’m pretty capable of taking care of myself. I remember there was this one guy I was maybe a little interested in,” apparently not very interested though because she couldn’t bother to remember his name, “and he pulled me off this girl I was fighting once. She had said something really insulting, and I had just started swinging.. and he grabbed me out of the fight!” The poor man, thinking to gain a few points by playing the white knight, had doomed any chance of spending time with the blue-haired Empress after that. “And Stephen always said he promised to take care of me, but I don’t need or want people to take care of me. It’s condescending and rude.”
“People feel protective of those they care about.”
“I know, I get that. I’m not saying I don’t want people to care, and it’s not like I haven’t acted that way towards other people too.” She grasped a moment to put her feelings into words, “Just... treat me like the adult that I am. I don’t need to be talked down to. I don’t need to be handled with kid gloves. And I don’t need to be protected.”
“Not even from yourself?” Helen challenged.
Her lips turned in a quirky smile, “I thought that’s what I had you for?”
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JewellRavenlock
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“I’ve been thinking about what we spoke about a few weeks ago, Jewell. About your tendency to endure treatment that may be considered abusive. It may be more complicated than this, but you can let me know what you think.” The Empress nodded, eager to hear the doctor’s theory. “You are a very aggressive person, Jewell. You do not hesitate to stand up for and protect those you love and yourself from threats. But what happens when it is the people you love, the people you care for, that are the ones you need protection from?”
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JewellRavenlock
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“Sometimes, I am not sure which me is the real me.”
“Am I the laughing, flighty woman who reigns as social queen in the bar room?”
“Am I the serious woman who doesn’t even know how to craft a real smile, cold and disconnected from everyone around her?”
“When I stop pretending, what’s left? Which one am I? Am I always pretending so there is nothing else? Or am I never pretending?”
“And why do I have these moments of identity crisis? Why do I not just know who I am?”
Helen ventured a guess, “If I had to say, Jewell, I think it is because you have long ago learned to adapt to different situations. You learned to craft yourself into whatever the situation demanded. For RhyDin, it was smiling bright, being a people pleaser, the darling socialite. For Faerie, you needed to be cold and in control.”
“But then who am I when I don’t need to be anything else? Who am I when I am just me?”
“Am I the laughing, flighty woman who reigns as social queen in the bar room?”
“Am I the serious woman who doesn’t even know how to craft a real smile, cold and disconnected from everyone around her?”
“When I stop pretending, what’s left? Which one am I? Am I always pretending so there is nothing else? Or am I never pretending?”
“And why do I have these moments of identity crisis? Why do I not just know who I am?”
Helen ventured a guess, “If I had to say, Jewell, I think it is because you have long ago learned to adapt to different situations. You learned to craft yourself into whatever the situation demanded. For RhyDin, it was smiling bright, being a people pleaser, the darling socialite. For Faerie, you needed to be cold and in control.”
“But then who am I when I don’t need to be anything else? Who am I when I am just me?”
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JewellRavenlock
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“What else have you been doing to keep yourself busy?”
“Oh.. this and that.” The sweet smile she offered the doctor a deterrent to suspicion at her vagueness.
“And your trip into Faerie went well?”
The smile morphed into a sardonic smirk, “Well I made it back this time. I suppose that can be considered a success.”
“And I am glad you did! I designed a little activity I wanted to try with you, a list of questions really to possibly help you with those identity problems we spoke about recently.”
Jewell wrinkled her nose. Diving into her psyche with deep questions seemed a waste of a perfectly good morning filled with bird-song from the open windows. Still, she knew the doctor was simply trying to help her, so she settled back on the couch and waved her hand. “I guess we can give it a shot.”
“Lovely! I was hoping you’d be willing to try it.” Dr. Bronner grabbed a notebook off the table next to her chair, holding it out to Jewell. “It’s actually homework. There’s a question every few pages that I want you to think about and then answer.”
She stared at the notebook before slowly reaching out to take it from the doctor, “You want me to write?”
“Yes. You mentioned in the past that you used to keep a journal. I realize you don’t do that anymore, but writing out your feelings can be extremely healthy and cathartic. I think you should give it a try.”
“I guess..” Jewell couldn’t have sounded any more reluctant as she held the notebook gingerly in her hands, as if it was the paper itself that had the ability to harm her and not the words she was expected to pen on them. “You want me to try this now?”
“We have some time left. Why don’t you start and you can finish it sometime before our next session?”
Helen Bronner was so earnest in her attempts to help her, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture of creating the notebook was not entirely lost on Jewell. “Sure. That sounds good.”
Jewell flipped through the pages. Back and forth. She fanned the paper one way and then another without looking at the words written on them. Really, how hard could this be? She scolded herself to stop procrastinating. Just because she had moments of self doubt, she reasoned, didn’t mean she didn’t know herself. “Okay, let’s try this.” Turning back to the first page, Jewell read the lead question: What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Pen poised over the lined page, Jewell thought. And she thought. And she thought.
Then she dropped the pen onto the page, closed the notebook over it, stood up, and exited the room. “Tell Dr. Bronner I’m going home,” she called to Helen’s secretary with a wave, not even pausing as she opened the door and headed down the stairs of the old brownstone. Apparently, this writing exercise was not going to be easy.
“Oh.. this and that.” The sweet smile she offered the doctor a deterrent to suspicion at her vagueness.
“And your trip into Faerie went well?”
The smile morphed into a sardonic smirk, “Well I made it back this time. I suppose that can be considered a success.”
“And I am glad you did! I designed a little activity I wanted to try with you, a list of questions really to possibly help you with those identity problems we spoke about recently.”
Jewell wrinkled her nose. Diving into her psyche with deep questions seemed a waste of a perfectly good morning filled with bird-song from the open windows. Still, she knew the doctor was simply trying to help her, so she settled back on the couch and waved her hand. “I guess we can give it a shot.”
“Lovely! I was hoping you’d be willing to try it.” Dr. Bronner grabbed a notebook off the table next to her chair, holding it out to Jewell. “It’s actually homework. There’s a question every few pages that I want you to think about and then answer.”
She stared at the notebook before slowly reaching out to take it from the doctor, “You want me to write?”
“Yes. You mentioned in the past that you used to keep a journal. I realize you don’t do that anymore, but writing out your feelings can be extremely healthy and cathartic. I think you should give it a try.”
“I guess..” Jewell couldn’t have sounded any more reluctant as she held the notebook gingerly in her hands, as if it was the paper itself that had the ability to harm her and not the words she was expected to pen on them. “You want me to try this now?”
“We have some time left. Why don’t you start and you can finish it sometime before our next session?”
Helen Bronner was so earnest in her attempts to help her, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture of creating the notebook was not entirely lost on Jewell. “Sure. That sounds good.”
Jewell flipped through the pages. Back and forth. She fanned the paper one way and then another without looking at the words written on them. Really, how hard could this be? She scolded herself to stop procrastinating. Just because she had moments of self doubt, she reasoned, didn’t mean she didn’t know herself. “Okay, let’s try this.” Turning back to the first page, Jewell read the lead question: What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Pen poised over the lined page, Jewell thought. And she thought. And she thought.
Then she dropped the pen onto the page, closed the notebook over it, stood up, and exited the room. “Tell Dr. Bronner I’m going home,” she called to Helen’s secretary with a wave, not even pausing as she opened the door and headed down the stairs of the old brownstone. Apparently, this writing exercise was not going to be easy.
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2473
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
There is a clearing in the woods outside of RhyDin that holds a dilapidated building at its heart. Scattered around it are piles of rotting wood that had once been other structures. Time has dealt harshly with this sanctuary for women, worn and wearied by difficult lives, who liked to host tea parties and pretend to be little girls again in the moments snuck between heartache and disaster. The site of the Forsaken Blades’ clubhouse may have been the only place Jewell ever truly knew herself, and so she went there to see if there was anything left to find. Notebook in hand, she settled amongst the overgrown grass near to where she thought a mud puddle called a pond once stood, inhabited by a rather unfortunate dolphin. Flipping through the pages of the notebook, with its appropriate blue cover, she searched for the most harmless question.
What is your most treasured possession?
The portraits of my children are not possessions. To think of them as such would mean that they are nothing more than that: they are no longer my living, breathing children but mere decorations for my wall that represent what once was. Besides, people are not possessions. They should not be. I have been a possession before, someone’s most treasured, and I would not wish that on anyone.
My memory is really my most treasured possession. I do not always dream as mortals do. Instead, at times I walk through the pages of my personal history, reliving moments and memories. In these elvish dreams, I hear my daughter’s laughter as she runs through a house lost to the past and smile. I feel Robin’s fingers encircle my wrist and cry. I live through tea parties and duels and nights spent bartending. In my mind, I can recreate memories I no longer even remember: my mother’s hand stroking my hair or my father’s deep voice. I hold on to these memories because they are the greatest treasures I have.
There was a time I had many material possessions. I filled my home and life with them. Each one was precious. Each one was a piece of me that, when put together, told the story of my life. But each and every one of them is long gone. The few that I saved from the fire were taken from me. I do not have very many possessions these days. My large house is empty, and I dare not fill it again.
I say that I dare not because I am afraid. I say I dare not, yet I do it all the same. I am a collector of things. Things represent memories and so I keep them against the passing of time, against my better judgment. I am always so afraid that these gifts, these pieces of my memory, will burn again, float away through the air. Ishmerai has found for me perhaps the best present of all: a fireproof safe. In it I will restart my collection of things: a flower pressed from this year’s Beltane celebration, a feather from my masque dress, a flier advertising an IFL fight, a photograph. Maybe I can rebuild myself. Maybe I can make myself fireproof.
What is your most treasured possession?
The portraits of my children are not possessions. To think of them as such would mean that they are nothing more than that: they are no longer my living, breathing children but mere decorations for my wall that represent what once was. Besides, people are not possessions. They should not be. I have been a possession before, someone’s most treasured, and I would not wish that on anyone.
My memory is really my most treasured possession. I do not always dream as mortals do. Instead, at times I walk through the pages of my personal history, reliving moments and memories. In these elvish dreams, I hear my daughter’s laughter as she runs through a house lost to the past and smile. I feel Robin’s fingers encircle my wrist and cry. I live through tea parties and duels and nights spent bartending. In my mind, I can recreate memories I no longer even remember: my mother’s hand stroking my hair or my father’s deep voice. I hold on to these memories because they are the greatest treasures I have.
There was a time I had many material possessions. I filled my home and life with them. Each one was precious. Each one was a piece of me that, when put together, told the story of my life. But each and every one of them is long gone. The few that I saved from the fire were taken from me. I do not have very many possessions these days. My large house is empty, and I dare not fill it again.
I say that I dare not because I am afraid. I say I dare not, yet I do it all the same. I am a collector of things. Things represent memories and so I keep them against the passing of time, against my better judgment. I am always so afraid that these gifts, these pieces of my memory, will burn again, float away through the air. Ishmerai has found for me perhaps the best present of all: a fireproof safe. In it I will restart my collection of things: a flower pressed from this year’s Beltane celebration, a feather from my masque dress, a flier advertising an IFL fight, a photograph. Maybe I can rebuild myself. Maybe I can make myself fireproof.
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2473
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
On what occasions do you lie?
I lie all the time. I lie to myself and to my friends.
Lies are empowering. There is a power in being able to manipulate people’s perception of you, which is part of a lie. You live a lie and no one knows what to really expect. Do I look like a delicate little flower, crushable underfoot? What are you going to do when it turns out that I will gladly and easily smash your head into that wall? This is the power I enjoy with my glamour. Is not glamour just a type of lie? A very beautiful lie.
I like to play dumb. To laugh a lot, smile, and pretend I don’t understand. People think I am pretty but forgettable. I am not worth their time. Good. Keep your attention elsewhere. Don’t mind what I am doing. Do not take me seriously. Do not watch the blue haired girl in her pretty girl dresses too closely.
People take you seriously and then they expect things of you. They want things from you.
When you’re a shallow, flighty thing like myself.. people don’t expect anything of you. I can say and do whatever I want, and in the end I’m just the silly little Empress. My life is so easy. So glamorous and decadent. What do I know of trials and tribulations? Everyone loves me. What do I know of loneliness?
I lie because it’s easier. It is easier to smile and laugh. It’s more fun. That’s right: My life is more fun when I am lying to everyone because lying insulates me from the things I am not ready to deal with. The things I never want to face.
Lying let’s me be as afraid as I want without anyone ever knowing.
I lie to cover my vulnerabilities.
The best lies are the ones I tell to myself:
You are not a failure
You will see your children again
You are beautiful and strong
You are desirable
You are not afraid
You can keep going
You want to keep going
You can do this
Sometimes, I get tired of lying.
I lie all the time. I lie to myself and to my friends.
Lies are empowering. There is a power in being able to manipulate people’s perception of you, which is part of a lie. You live a lie and no one knows what to really expect. Do I look like a delicate little flower, crushable underfoot? What are you going to do when it turns out that I will gladly and easily smash your head into that wall? This is the power I enjoy with my glamour. Is not glamour just a type of lie? A very beautiful lie.
I like to play dumb. To laugh a lot, smile, and pretend I don’t understand. People think I am pretty but forgettable. I am not worth their time. Good. Keep your attention elsewhere. Don’t mind what I am doing. Do not take me seriously. Do not watch the blue haired girl in her pretty girl dresses too closely.
People take you seriously and then they expect things of you. They want things from you.
When you’re a shallow, flighty thing like myself.. people don’t expect anything of you. I can say and do whatever I want, and in the end I’m just the silly little Empress. My life is so easy. So glamorous and decadent. What do I know of trials and tribulations? Everyone loves me. What do I know of loneliness?
I lie because it’s easier. It is easier to smile and laugh. It’s more fun. That’s right: My life is more fun when I am lying to everyone because lying insulates me from the things I am not ready to deal with. The things I never want to face.
Lying let’s me be as afraid as I want without anyone ever knowing.
I lie to cover my vulnerabilities.
The best lies are the ones I tell to myself:
You are not a failure
You will see your children again
You are beautiful and strong
You are desirable
You are not afraid
You can keep going
You want to keep going
You can do this
Sometimes, I get tired of lying.
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2473
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
What are your strengths?
Can I answer “what are my strengths?” with.. strength?
That just looks dumb when I write it down, but I think it is true.
Throw anything at me. I can take it.
You kidnap and kill those I love?
You subjugate my body and rape my soul?
You can’t stop me. Feel free to try again.
I didn’t used to know my own strength. When I was crumbling under the crushing weight of trials, how could I possibly know that I was strong enough to survive them? No.. not just survive. There have been times when all I did was simply survive and go through the motions of life. But I know now that I am strong enough to survive and then let life continue afterwards. Real life. Actual living.
My strength is a stubborn strength. A strength that refuses to give in even when I want to. And haven’t I wanted to? So so many times.
Maybe I’m strong in other ways. I can be conniving. I can be manipulative. I can be sweet and charming or cruel and heartless. I can be whatever I need to be. Adapt. Adjust. Change. Comply. Conform. Blonde, brunette, or red-head. Weak or strong. Coy and charming. Any situation. Any time.
By adapting, I survive.
Can I answer “what are my strengths?” with.. strength?
That just looks dumb when I write it down, but I think it is true.
Throw anything at me. I can take it.
You kidnap and kill those I love?
You subjugate my body and rape my soul?
You can’t stop me. Feel free to try again.
I didn’t used to know my own strength. When I was crumbling under the crushing weight of trials, how could I possibly know that I was strong enough to survive them? No.. not just survive. There have been times when all I did was simply survive and go through the motions of life. But I know now that I am strong enough to survive and then let life continue afterwards. Real life. Actual living.
My strength is a stubborn strength. A strength that refuses to give in even when I want to. And haven’t I wanted to? So so many times.
Maybe I’m strong in other ways. I can be conniving. I can be manipulative. I can be sweet and charming or cruel and heartless. I can be whatever I need to be. Adapt. Adjust. Change. Comply. Conform. Blonde, brunette, or red-head. Weak or strong. Coy and charming. Any situation. Any time.
By adapting, I survive.
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2473
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
What is your current state of mind?
My state of mind... It is always in flux.
Is it normal for someone to experience a state close to contentment one moment and then crippling despair the next?
I am constantly in search of balance for I cannot stand these extremes. Up and down. Over and over. Laughing with friends until the icy grip, the empty ache in my chest, brings me down.
There is a magic in RhyDin at work upon me. When I returned to this city a little over a year ago, my state of mind was a clear tumult. Cold calculation had replaced content happiness a long time ago only to be usurped by the taste of death in my mouth. I felt icy and numb. I could not face that which had brought me here: the loss of my children, the crimes I had committed to get them back, the parts I had played in service to the Ta-Neer family, the woman I had become, the loss of my magic. Better to be numb. To not feel at all.
RhyDin has slowly thawed me out over time. I cannot numb myself forever, and there is a painful delight in the sting of emotions. To being alive again. I have had to face that tumult that was waiting for me just beyond the edge of numbness, but with it came the beautiful emotions I had locked away along with the bad: love, friendship, contentment, bliss, joy, happiness. I mourned what I lost and then it was time to move on.
At times, I still want the numbness; emotions overwhelm and I crave it. I seek it at the bottom of bottles and in the rings. But every day that I am here, even when I slip a step or two back, I think I get closer to finding the balance I need.
My state of mind... It is always in flux.
Is it normal for someone to experience a state close to contentment one moment and then crippling despair the next?
I am constantly in search of balance for I cannot stand these extremes. Up and down. Over and over. Laughing with friends until the icy grip, the empty ache in my chest, brings me down.
There is a magic in RhyDin at work upon me. When I returned to this city a little over a year ago, my state of mind was a clear tumult. Cold calculation had replaced content happiness a long time ago only to be usurped by the taste of death in my mouth. I felt icy and numb. I could not face that which had brought me here: the loss of my children, the crimes I had committed to get them back, the parts I had played in service to the Ta-Neer family, the woman I had become, the loss of my magic. Better to be numb. To not feel at all.
RhyDin has slowly thawed me out over time. I cannot numb myself forever, and there is a painful delight in the sting of emotions. To being alive again. I have had to face that tumult that was waiting for me just beyond the edge of numbness, but with it came the beautiful emotions I had locked away along with the bad: love, friendship, contentment, bliss, joy, happiness. I mourned what I lost and then it was time to move on.
At times, I still want the numbness; emotions overwhelm and I crave it. I seek it at the bottom of bottles and in the rings. But every day that I am here, even when I slip a step or two back, I think I get closer to finding the balance I need.
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2473
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
When and where were you the happiest?
RhyDin.
RhyDin has always been my refuge. It is the only place where, if there is such a thing, I have known perfect happiness. The memory of this city was a thread of hope that kept me alive in my darkest hour. When nothing else mattered and life seemed a waste, I thought of RhyDin again.
That’s why I came back. I deluded myself. I thought I could find my past happiness again, even without my children, here in RhyDin. I know better now. I think I can find a happiness again, but it is not that happiness.
I must learn to be okay with that. There will always be other happinesses.
RhyDin.
RhyDin has always been my refuge. It is the only place where, if there is such a thing, I have known perfect happiness. The memory of this city was a thread of hope that kept me alive in my darkest hour. When nothing else mattered and life seemed a waste, I thought of RhyDin again.
That’s why I came back. I deluded myself. I thought I could find my past happiness again, even without my children, here in RhyDin. I know better now. I think I can find a happiness again, but it is not that happiness.
I must learn to be okay with that. There will always be other happinesses.
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2473
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
What are you thankful for?
I am thankful for my friends. My true friends.
They are few in number perhaps, so I am even more thankful for each and every one of these people who have seen me as I am and have not turned away. They have seen me at my best. They have seen glimpses of my worst. Yet they are still here with me.
There was a time in Faerie when I forgot what such friendship meant. What it was? Did it even exist? I didn’t think so. I had forgotten all about it. I had forgotten my friends.
I value my friendships more highly than love for real friendship is the best form of love there is.
I am thankful for my friends. My true friends.
They are few in number perhaps, so I am even more thankful for each and every one of these people who have seen me as I am and have not turned away. They have seen me at my best. They have seen glimpses of my worst. Yet they are still here with me.
There was a time in Faerie when I forgot what such friendship meant. What it was? Did it even exist? I didn’t think so. I had forgotten all about it. I had forgotten my friends.
I value my friendships more highly than love for real friendship is the best form of love there is.
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2473
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
-
JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2473
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Just one? That seems unfair.
No, I suppose it’s not. I can already change many of the things that people wish to change about themselves (even if it’s just temporary). I can change my hair, my eyes, my face, my body. Tall and sexy. Short and squat. You want it? I got it.
The inside though.. that’s harder.
I think, if I could change one thing about myself.. I guess I wish I was more domesticated? That makes me sound like a wild animal. Maybe I am. I don’t really want to be a domestic home-body. Then I see people with their perfect little families: their perfect little husband, their perfect little children, their perfect house with a perfect pet and a perfect dinner sitting on the table made by their perfect little hands. And I hate them. And I want to be them because at least they know where they fit in life. At least they know where they belong. They have stability. They have love and security. They have everything they could ever want and need because they have each other.
But I know better. I know how fast that can all disappear. In the blink of an eye you’ve lost it all. And then what?
Then you’re just like me.
There is no stability, no security, nothing that lasts forever. Not even close. So why bother reaching for it?
Forget it. If I could change one thing about myself, I would permanently change my hair color. Blue is too hard to match.
Just one? That seems unfair.
No, I suppose it’s not. I can already change many of the things that people wish to change about themselves (even if it’s just temporary). I can change my hair, my eyes, my face, my body. Tall and sexy. Short and squat. You want it? I got it.
The inside though.. that’s harder.
I think, if I could change one thing about myself.. I guess I wish I was more domesticated? That makes me sound like a wild animal. Maybe I am. I don’t really want to be a domestic home-body. Then I see people with their perfect little families: their perfect little husband, their perfect little children, their perfect house with a perfect pet and a perfect dinner sitting on the table made by their perfect little hands. And I hate them. And I want to be them because at least they know where they fit in life. At least they know where they belong. They have stability. They have love and security. They have everything they could ever want and need because they have each other.
But I know better. I know how fast that can all disappear. In the blink of an eye you’ve lost it all. And then what?
Then you’re just like me.
There is no stability, no security, nothing that lasts forever. Not even close. So why bother reaching for it?
Forget it. If I could change one thing about myself, I would permanently change my hair color. Blue is too hard to match.
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