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sapphos-ode · 11 months

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Notes In Black and White

Alcina Dimitrescu

Alcina was no stranger to bouts of insomnia, at first it was brought on by her body adjusting to the changes the Cadou brought on, and as time progressed the cause became the stress of Mother Miranda’s impossible demands. As well as having three monsters for daughters.

The Countess had taken to midnight strolls, through the gardens in the warmer months, and around the halls of the castle during poor weather or the winter.

As of late she’d often hear the notes of a piano ring through the castle, this had been going on for a few months yet every time she reached the opera hall, this mystery pianist had disappeared. No matter how far or how near she was. It irked her greatly, she wanted to know who else was prowling the halls, and who had this hidden talent. There was no doubt about it, no matter how quiet the notes were, the skill and mastery could be heard.

The first time this happened, she had recognised the song, Chopin’s Double Thirds Étude. Not an easy piece to play at all, so of course this intrigued her. Enough for her curiosity to outweigh her annoyance at the curfew being broken.

The second night the person had played was Comptine d’un Autre Été : L’Après-Midi, by Yann Tiersen. A more contemporary piece but still wonderful on the ears.

The third night was silent. And the Fourth too. By the seventh night, Alcina had felt herself a little lonely. Missing the music.

The ninth night the melodies returned in the form of Pensiero Notturno. And from then onwards they seemed to be pretty consistent, playing almost every night. Alas Alcina still had no luck finding this person before they seemingly just evaporated into thin air.

At first she had asked her daughters if any of them had been playing, however she knew none of them were at a skill level to play that particular Etude of Chopin’s. Not that she was disappointed, just her daughters weren’t that invested in piano to take their skills that far. Still, Alcina wanted to ask all the same. All three had said no.

Once again the Countess had hurried to the opera hall, the last notes of Ludovico Einaudi’s Experience had echoed through the air not too long ago. Alcina preferred the original, but the piano solo version of it was just as moving. She burst through the doors only to see the room empty. Like always. But this time, the small, plain servants door slowly shut on itself. The movement caught her attention. The countess sighed heavily, she was far too tall to even duck through it.

Retreating back to her chambers in defeat, she vowed she would find the pianist the next night.

You jogged down the passageway, thankful you had managed to finish playing before the Countess had entered the room. You hated to think what consequences you’d face for being caught. You were fully aware that you were playing with fire. But it seemed that playing the piano, letting your fingers ghost across the ivory keys, was the only way you found enough peace to fall asleep. Just like the Lady of the castle, you suffered from insomnia.

As you clamber back into bed you begin to wonder what you wanted to play next.

The following day passed in a blur, you kept your head down and just got through your work. Nothing eventful happened, a rather mundane day much to your delight. And it seemed god smiled down on you, for you manage to fall asleep that night without any issues.

Alcina, on the other hand, found sleep evaded her yet again. So she found herself neglecting her stroll, in favour of sitting in the opera hall. Where she waited. And waited. And waited some more until it reached four in the morning. With a forlorn sigh Alcina waltzed up to the piano and adjusted the seat. Before lifting the fall board and playing herself. Bethoven’s Moonlight Sonata First Movement.

You were a light sleeper, and your room was close-ish to the opera hall. Meaning the notes the lady played rung out loud enough to rouse you from your slumber. Initially, you were pissed to have woken up. Then after that you seemed to settle down, enjoying the song. You knew that you wouldn’t fall back asleep so you threw the covers off of yourself and made your way to the opera hall.

You cracked the servant’s door open peering through it cautiously, and only just managing to stifle your gasp when your eyes set upon the Lady’s form, her eyes shut as she played.

You debate briefly with yourself whether you should stay or go. In the end you opt to slip away silently once the countess had finished her song and stood up.

You don’t fall asleep again.

The following night you visit the opera hall, scanning the room to check it was empty before making your way to the piano. You settle onto the seat and trail your fingers across the keys. Unsure of what to play. You start off playing Atlantico by Ahzuras, but after the fifth measure you stop abruptly. Choosing to play Conversation with Myself by the same composer.

The Lady was not one to give up. She was persistent, and so she had took a seat in the opera hall just as she had last night, but she kept to the shadows. Despite her towering height she was a master at hiding in plain sight. She was overjoyed to watch you slip into the room. And she allowed you to play the song in full. Peacefully observing you as you let the music flow through you. Your eyes downcast as you gaze at the keys.

You sit in silence for a moment, hands cradled on your lap before you bring them back to the keys. Then you pause. Look up, and then over Alcina. You freeze in place, eyes wide. Unsure whether to make the fruitless attempt of running away or if your odds were better if you stay. And face whatever repercussions the Lady has for you.

“You play well,” her voice echoes through the spacious room.

You remain silent for a beat, before speaking, “thank you, my lady,” you force the tremor out of your voice.

The lady does not reply. She simply stands and walks over to you, slowly. She’s clad in her nightgown, with no additional layers. The seasons are changing and it’s becoming warmer.

You feel your heart crashing against your ribcage and work hard to keep your breathing even.

“You kept me waiting last night,” she states. As she nears you. Coming to a standstill when she’s right next to you.

You furrow your brow in confusion before it clicks. Alcina could practically see the cogwheels turning in your head. She chuckles quietly to herself.

“For the last few months I’ve been trying to catch you, but you always seemed to evade me,” she motions for you to shuffle over. To which you do. Not wishing to anger her.

In awe you watch her sit down beside you. Still towering over you. You have to crane your neck a little to see her face.

“Do you know Liebeslied?”

You catch on quickly, but you have to disappoint the countess, “no, my lady,” you seem almost embarrassed you don’t.

“Beethoven’s Sonata Number Fourteen? In C Sharp Minor?”

You perk up a little. You know that one.

“Yes,” you answer eagerly. Placing your hands on the piano once again.

Alcina smiles down at you as she starts to count you both in.

The piece hits the ground running, there is no slow introduction. But you keep tempo perfectly and play every key correctly alongside the Countess. You are much more skilled than she had realised. To her delight. In all honestly, you give her a run for her money. Alcina struggles, very little, but still struggles to keep up. She adores the challenge. It has been too long since she had been out to the test, for any skill or hobby.

The song comes to an explosive finish and both of you remain still as the note falls away into the air.

It is Alcina who breaks the silence.

“Classically trained?”

“National Conservatory of Music and Dance of Paris,” you answer shortly.

Alcina is about to say something but you continue to speak, “My parents are renowned musicians… and wanted me to follow in their footsteps, I’ve played the piano my whole life,”

The countess picks up on your melancholy tone, and remains silent. Knowing there’s more you wish to say. She’s thoroughly impressed though, acceptance into that conservatoire is hard. It’s considered one of the best in Europe.

You chance a shy glance up at her, silently seeking approval to keep talking. To which you find in the form of a soft gaze.

“They were, overbearing. So once I graduated I left France and ended up here,” There’s more to the story but you don’t need to say. Alcina picks up on what you’ve inferred.

“It’s no small feat studying there,”

You hum in agreement. To humble to say thank you.

“I have a musical background, I seem to find such talent has disappeared in the modern age. I’ve heard you playing in here for months,”

“You have?” A blush spreads across your face as you fiddle with your hands.

“Yes, I’ve been wanting to meet you since,”

“Night owl? Or do you struggle to sleep too?”

“I haven’t had a full night’s rest in a long time pet,”

You bristle at the term. Alcina notices and smirks to herself.

The pair of you fall into an amicable silence before Alcina speaks up again.

“Do you play any other instruments?”

“A few, my lady,”

The sun has started to rise, and neither you or Alcina had realised how much time had passed. You both had ended up conversing for hours. About music mainly, you discover Alcina was part of a Jazz band back in the day. You make her promise to play some of her songs. She agrees if you promise to play the violin accompaniment to one of her favourite pieces. Who were you to deny such a beautiful woman? You had happily agreed.

A clock, somewhere in the castle had chimed seven times. Alcina looked towards the general direction and frowned. She redirects her gaze back down to you, a fondness forming in her eyes.

“Same time tomorrow night?”

“Of course, Alcina,”

“Til then draga mea,”

She gives you a sweet smile before she gets up and leaves.

#lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader

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bestiarium · 20 days

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Taqqiq, the moon spirit [Inuit mythology]

Ever-present in the night sky, the moon plays a central role in countless folktales and myths from around the world. In native Inuit religion, the moon is inhabited by an Inua (supernatural spirit) named Taqqiq, which literally means ‘moon’. This enigmatic but benevolent creature watches over humanity and is responsible for guiding the souls of the dead to the afterlife. He once was a mortal man, and his transformation into the moon spirit is the subject of several different stories. Details differ, but a common version has it that he lusted after his own sister, Siqiniq. According to one tale, he made his advances at night, when it was too dark for her to recognize him. But Siqiniq was clever and smeared her body with black soot. The next morning, she saw Taqqiq’s face was blackened with soot and realized that it had been him. He chased her and she fled into the heavens and turned into the sun spirit.

Taqqiq, still chasing after her, followed his sister into the sky and eventually became the moon spirit, ironically reflecting his sister’s fate. He deeply regrets his actions and tries to make up for them. Perhaps because of this, he is said to sometimes descend to the Earth when women are abused and then saves them. Sometimes, he takes them back with him to the moon, where they live happily as Taqqiq takes care of them.

His outfit is made with gorgeous white fur, and Taqqiq himself is said to be particularly handsome. In some stories, he is said to travel with a troupe of dogs. It is unclear to me where these dogs came from, but they are particularly powerful and large.

The moon spirit is also associated with the hunt: the Polar Inuit believe Taqqiq brought wild animals to the world of the living so that humans could hunt and eat (hunters would sometimes offer prayers to thank him), and in the belief of the Inuit of Baffin Island, these animals are specifically mentioned to be caribou and seals. Iglulik Inuit believe that Taqqiq would bestow good fortune on seal hunters, whereas the people from eastern Greenland believe him to bless whale hunters. Taqqiq is often depicted with his signature whip, which he uses to hit young boys, as it is his role as a spirit to harden them into strong hunters. While this is a harsh (and presumably very traumatic) way to teach a kid a lesson, Taqqiq is regarded as a protector of young boys and defender of the weak.

Source: Taylor, J. G., 1997, Deconstructing deities: Tuurngatsuak and Tuurngaatsuk in Labrador Inuit Religion, Études Inuit Studies, 21 (1/2), pp. 141-158. Christopher, N., 2013, The Hidden: a compendium of arctic giants, dwarves, gnomes, trolls, faeries, and other strange beings from Inuit oral history, 191 pp, p. 178-181. D’Anglure, B. S. and Philibert, J., 1993, The Shaman’s Share, or Inuit Sexual Communism in the Canadian Central Arctic, Anthropologica, Canadian Anthropology Society, 35 (1), pp. 59-103. (image source: Christopher Stevens, painted for Pivut Magazine, Copyright Inhabit Media)

#Inuit mythology #spirits #mythical creatures #mythology #world mythology #myths

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