#its a keridwen thing
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Having been prompted by @mystery-star , I've been giving some thought to the Alistairion family crest. I think it would be pretty classic one. It would be a black bear on a dark blue field. Here are a few options I likes, as well as a bear cloak pin I'm now going to think about until I die.
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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 I want to hear about all of them
Oof ok I warned you the floodgates may never shut here. (So I posted an ask game earlier so what I did was I took questions 1-12 (few extra ocs sorry) and assigned them each to an oc and I'll answer in character ok here we go):
1. Has your character ever done anything illegal?
Nyar: Up until recently, no. I was the captain of the youngest crew in the Regimental Fleet. I was the youngest decorated member of the Militia. I was very by the book. But then my crew of --disasters, had to go and commit treason and well they may be dumbasses, but they're my dumbasses so I had to go too. (Thane, from another room: you love us and you know it!)
2. Favorite mode of transportation! Thane: I'm a trained co-piolt, so anything that flies is cool by me. But bike style speeders? Oh god I want me one of those.
3. Are they a good cook?
Caelum: I burned rice once.
4. Is physical health a major concern for them?
Avanda: Yes! I spent all of my time training to be a head medic and I cried when I got the assignment that I was to be in charge of a crew's health! When I saw the conditions that the Keridwen and Revolutionary MedBases were in, I cried again, but it was different.
5. Would they last a day in the wilderness alone? Elaborate!
Carina: I think I would do ok for two, maybe three days. That was part of our training after all. But if I'm being honest, I scored really badly on survival tests like that.
6. Are they good with kids? Do they like kids? (This can apply to child characters, too!)
Jalev: I think so, yeah! I love kids! They're so much easier to talk to than adults! Besides, they can say the craziest goofiest thing and then in the next second, make you question everything you've ever known. Kids are great!
7. Is your character good at hiding their emotions?
Ewan: I suppose? I dunno. I've never really tried to. I mean as a royal guard, I do have to stand at attention for a long time with no expression, and as an advisor I have to stay diplomatic. (Avanda: by "diplomatic" he means he'll stop talking. You can still tell he's pissed, though. I can hear his teeth grinding from across the room.)
8. Can your character keep a secret?
Adair: absolutely. Not a problem at all. I've had people say they forgot they told me something because I kept so quiet about it.
9. Rate their verbal communication skills on a scale of one to ten, one being the worst and ten being the best. Ferret: I'm a solid 3. Unless we count sarcasm on a different scale. I get 74 on that scale. (Avanda: that....that is surprisingly accurate)
10. Does silence bother your character? If so, what would they do about it?
Marin: nah not really no. I'm an assassin, so truth be told, sound bothers me more than silence does. Silence is safe. Its comfortable. Sound is tricky. Its a weapon, and it can turn on you way too fast.
11. How do they feel about spiders? Peadair: I think they're really cool!! All those legs an' eyes??? I think the webs are icky, but I dont let 'Vanda squish 'm. I take 'em outside and let 'em go.
12. Is your character prone to picking fights or non-confrontational?
Carrick: I'm twelve. I get in fights about as much as any other twelve year old. (Adair: no. No you get into way more fights than most other humans of any age. I've patched you up more than I've patched up some guys who get in bar fights twice a week.) Carrick: that's not fair. Some of those are from hunting! Or fighting with Peadair! And sibling fights don't count, Ewan said so!
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Ladies of Legend: Cerridwen
Resources: The Complete Book of Witches and Wizards (Carlton Books Ltd, 2007) by Tim Dedopulos, The Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Fairies (Vega, 2002) by Anna Franklin, The Fairy Bible (Godsfield Press, 2008) by Teresa Moorey, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creirwy
Welcome back to Ladies of Legend, a blog series exploring the identities of mythic women. Kicking off 2017 is Cerridwen (also spelled Caridwen or Keridwen), a Welsh goddess of the Underworld turned Arthurian-era witch.
She’s described as dark-haired and stocky with pale skin and black eyes. Legend has it that she lived in a mansion in the middle of Lake Tegid in Penllyn, Wales, with her husband Tegid Voel and their three children. The eldest son, Morvran, went on to be an advisor at King Arthur’s court; the middle child, Creirwy, grew into a reknown beauty; but the third child, Avagddu, worried Cerridwen immensely. He was apparently ‘the ugliest man in the world’, which is a subjective title if ever I heard one and also a really bad basis for judging a person’s future prospects. Some versions of the legend have the brothers as one and the same person, just to add to the general confusion in the family.
Anyway, Cerridwen was afraid that her son’s looks would preclude him from success at court, so she decided to gift him with such overwhelming intelligence that he would leave everyone who met him in awe. To this end she searched through her spellbooks and began work on a potion called Greal, to bestow inspiration and knowledge on its drinker.
It was a fiendishly difficult concoction to make. For one thing, it would have to be kept boiling for a year and a day exactly. Cerridwen’s time was much too valuable to slave over a potion for that long so she brought in a blind man called Morda to tend the fire and kidnapped a child called Gwion Bach to stir the cauldron. That left Cerridwen with the task of collecting all the (many) necessary herbs. These were not ingredients that you could stock up on in advance, oh no, this was the recipe from your worst nightmare. Everything had to be harvested under the correct astrological influence. No wonder there were not magically-imbued geniuses wandering all over the place.
One day while Cerridwen was out and Gwion was stirring the potion, three scalding drops spat out and landed on his hand. He instinctively sucked his burned finger and therefore accidentally imbibed the inspiration and knowledge intended for Avagddu. Spell complete, the cauldron cracked in half and the now-poisonous potion spilled into the nearby river, ending the lives of a lot of innocent horses.
Gwion was gifted with a flash of blinding insight, but it really shouldn’t have taken a magic potion to realise that Cerridwen would be really, really pissed off at him. Sensibly, he fled. Cerridwen took her rage out on poor Morda first, whacking him hard enough to pop out one of his eyes, but she quickly accepted that it was all Gwion’s fault and went after him instead. Having been granted a brand new skill set of sorcerous powers by his taste of the potion, Gwion tried to escape by changing his shape. First he became a hare, then a trout, then a bird – but Cerridwen was quick to follow as a bigger, fiercer predator. In desperation, Gwion became a grain of wheat amidst many other grains of wheat, clearly hoping for a ‘needle in a haystack’ situation. No such luck. Cerridwen turned herself into a hen and ate him up.
That was not the end of it. Cerridwen fell pregnant and in time Gwion was reborn as the beautiful, golden-haired Taliesin. Her original intention was to kill him, thereby reclaiming the potion, but once the baby was born Cerridwen could not bring herself to go through with it. She just…wrapped him in leather and threw him into the sea instead. Which is totally not the same thing as trying to kill him! Being a hero of legend, he of course survived, was taken in at the court of King Gwyddno Garanhir, and became a very famous bard.
I cannot, in any of the sources I have read, find out what happened to Cerridwen after Taliesin’s birth; the legend switches allegiances to him and leaves her in shadow. Cerridwen is associated with the sow (there being a longstanding Celtic tradition of pigs symbolising the Otherworld) and is said to travel on the back of a giant crow. Some sources parallel her to the Irish fire goddess Brighid (later Christianised as Saint Brigit) who is the patroness of poets, but she’s also compared to the Roman harvest goddess Ceres, which casts Creirwy as ‘the British Proserpine’. For all that, though, Cerridwen is still a woman – a witch, sorceress, goddess – of the Underworld. Her daughter must come by a little darkness naturally.
These stories vary wildly depending on time and teller – I work with the sources I have to hand but if you know an alternative version I would love to hear it!
Originally posted on Wordpress
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Some cute pictures from the rainstorm yesterday.
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Sparks Fly
1,573 words. Ewvanda. Pre-relationship modern!au setting. Mutual pining, but Avanda is a clueless dumbass. I say mutual pining but its Av's pov so really its just her pining really hard for 1,573 words. I've been sitting on this for so long, part 1 of ?
Avanda watched the dark grey clouds expectantly. They'd been threatening rain all week, but so far hadn't actually made good on it. She was starting to go crazy. Her living situation was already...tense. Ewan was practically moved in. If he wasn't staying on the couch here in the apartment that she and Thane shared, then she was on the couch in his family's apartment above the Base. That was ideal. Or, it would have been; could be at least. Maybe if Ewan felt the same way about her that she felt about him. Maybe if they shared more than a lingering glance when they thought the other wasn't looking.
Maybe if they were together.
But as it was; Ewan was only doing his job. And Avanda was only obeying her father's suggestions. She and Ewan weren't in love. They were both just following orders.
Ewan shifted at the dining room table. He had papers scattered all across it. Maps and plans; mission summaries and intelligence reports. He was piecing something together with a precise organisation in his head that was severely lacking on the table. He shuffled a stack of reports and sighed a little. The sound was copied by the clouds outside, who seemed to be letting out a low rumble of thunder in agreement.
Avanda turned her head to the clouds once more, a small smile spreading on her face. She waited for the first drops to begin to fall before she made her move.
Finally.
"Come on." She stood up from her place on the couch, pulling the hair tie out of the end of her braid.
Ewan looked up with a slight scowl. "Excuse me?"
"I said 'come on.' I'm going outside. As my diligent bodyguard, I assume that means you're coming too." She had made it to the door by now, and was kicking off the ballet flats she wore in the house.
"Lass--" She grinned as she heard the chair he had been sitting in scrape against the floor. "D'you not see the weather out there?"
"Of course I do." She grinned mischievously at him as she pulled the door open to the complex's shared yard space. "Why else d'you think I want to go out?" Without waiting for him to argue more, she stepped outside.
Her feet hit the wet grass and she smiled as her fingers combed out the last of her braid. The rain felt amazing as it landed on her skin, and she lifted her face up, her nose wrinkling as the droplets hit her eyelashes. She giggled a little and spun on her toes to look at Ewan. The young man was watching her through the screen door, his arms crossed over his chest and a small smile ghosting his face. He shook his head a little and turned back into the house.
"MacClyde! Get out here!" She called with a small laugh as her feet splashed in a puddle.
Ewan returned with her shamrock in hand. It was her only houseplant in the apartment; and a source of great pride since it was the only plant she hadn't killed. He placed it on the edge of the concrete that separated the grass and the patio space, then stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall; shaking his head again as he watched her. Avanda laughed again and turned her back on him, humming quietly as her toes sank into the soft earth. Her hair was wild from the wind and the water, and she sighed happily as she pushed the tangles away from her face. She turned again to Ewan and saw that he now had a lit cigarette between his lips, and was tucking a lighter and the pack back into the pocket of his jacket.
"Hey! No smoking!"
"I'm outside." Ewan argued, "I was told it was fine if I was out of the apartment."
Avanda crossed to him now, the mischief in her eyes growing. "Yes. But I said no smoking." With a confidence that surprised even herself, she reached up and plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, tossing it into a puddle deep enough to extinguish it.
"Lass." His voice was thick with frustration and his eyes narrowed a little, but the smile that played at his lips still told Avanda that he wasn't really angry.
God she wished he'd kiss her.
She shrugged. "Bad for you."
He ignored her, pulling another one out of the box. He eyed her carefully and she held her ground. Wet hair hanging in her eyes and a crooked grin still painted across her face. He dropped her gaze and lit the cigarette. She promptly pulled it back out of his mouth and tossed it to share the watery grave of it's brother. Ewan let out an annoyed hiss, a wisp of smoke escaping between his teeth.
"Lass. These aren't exactly inexpensive."
"Then quit buying them." She shrugged and crossed her arms.
Ewan raised an eyebrow at her and held a third cigarette in his mouth. "You're just going to throw this one out too, aren't you?"
Avanda smiled. "You catch on quick, MacClyde."
He sighed. "Look, you're getting to do your silly little stress relief out in the rain, why can't I do mine?"
"Because mine isn't hugely detrimental to my health."
"You'll catch a cold." He gently lifted a strand of her dripping hair, brandishing it at her a little before tucking it behind her ear. Her heart slammed madly in her chest, and she was terrified he would hear it.
"You'll catch cancer." She argued.
Ewan held her gaze for a very long time, thinking as he clicked the lighter on and off, but never lighting the cigarette.
God she wanted to kiss him.
The rain was still pouring down behind them and the flame from the lighter kept lighting his eyes. Each time she noticed more and more about them.
Click. They were different colors. Click. The left one was blue, the right one brown. Click. The brown one was the same color as her coffee in the mornings. Click. Darker even. Click. When he smiled, they lit up like Christmas lights. Click. Right now they were nearly blinding. Click. And that was just with a teasing little grin. Click. What must they be like when he really smiled?
Ewan let out an even longer sigh now, returning the unlit cigarette to the carton. "Now what?"
Avanda smiled. A thought tugged at the back of her mind, and she wondered if she should ignore it. The thought slid between her lips before she had a chance to argue.
"Come dance with me."
"You're mental."
Avanda blushed a little. "Oh, come on MacClyde. You know you want to."
"I don't dance."
"That's a lie."
"You have no proof to support that."
"Call it a hunch."
Ewan blinked at her a few times.
"Come on. Please?"
Another sigh. He sighed a lot. It had annoyed her a little at first, but now the sound had grown on her. It felt safe.
"If you tell anyone--"
She didn't wait for him to finish the threat. She grabbed his hand and pulled him off the sidewalk and into the grass with her. The rain was coming down so hard that even in parts of the lawn there were deep puddles of water; splashing and rippling as droplets hit the surface. She laughed as the rain hit her skin again, and tossed her hands into the air with the thunder, pulling Ewan's hand into the sky with her's. He laughed too now, and she noticed that he was hopping on one foot, trying to pull off his boot and his sock. He stumbled slightly, and she held him up; shrieking with laughter as she started to tip over as well. Once both of Ewan's shoes and socks had been tossed to the safety of the doorstep, he turned and grabbed her waist, spinning them in a circle. The motion caught her by surprise, and she grabbed his shoulders with a gasp as her feet left the ground. Ewan spun her around and sang a chorus of some old Kerridwen song in Gaelic as he danced, and Avanda could swear she was flying. Almost as suddenly as it had started, it ended again. Ewan dropped her right into one of the puddles. Avanda screeched again and he laughed, hard. She scrambled to her feet again, flicking hair out of her eyes as she did; kicking water at him.
"You've done it now, MacClyde. You've really done it now!" She kicked and splashed the water at him. He laughed and splashed back at her. By the time the storm had passed, both of them were soaked to the bone. Breathless and gasping with laughter and--
--and Ewan's hand clasped her's tightly as he pulled her back inside. He didn't let go as he scooped up the houseplant and handed it back to her. He didn't let go as he opened the door and held it for her.
God, how she wished he would kiss her already.
But as his fingers broke away from her's as he went to get some towels, she was reminded that he never would kiss her. That was only a fantasy.
And yet….no matter what, they had danced in the rain together and laughed until their sides ached. And that was something, at least.
#ewan insp#avanda insp#ewvanda insp#taylor swift#everything has changed#otp: red is the rose#mutual pining#renegade archangels#ra insp#ewan macclyde#ewan#avanda alistarion#avanda#god its been so long since ive tagged stuff shit uhhhh#fluff#my writing#my ocs#original fiction#renegade archangels insp#its a keridwen thing#tw smoking
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THIMDER I HEAR THUNDER
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I love my made up little nation and I love hearing people say things or do things and thinking "yeah. I know a place you may call home :)"
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"If we're going to leave, it has to be soon." Nyar's words were met with agreement.
"Before they send someone to check on us." Caelum said with a nod, "Because whoever comes up here won't leave for who knows how long."
"There's a go-bag under Ewan and I's bed in our room. And I know where we can get more supplies." Avanda stood up, running her fingers through her hair. "I'll be ready to go in fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen?" Nyar frowned.
"I have to do something."
*.*.*
Adair let out an aggravated groan, pacing behind Tessa's computer.
"Ok, ok I was wrong. Someone could be worse than Zombie. Get out. Go upstairs and check on them, ok?"
Adair sighed, nodding. "Sorry. Just--"
"Keep you in the loop. Of course."
Adair tossed a last, pained glance at the computer screen, like it was a window to his twin before heading upstairs. He knocked, waiting for an answer. When none came, he frowned and knocked again.
"Av?" Nothing. He pushed the door open. "Av, I just--" he stopped. It was obvious that they'd left. "Shit."
He pulled his phone out and groaned yet again. "Cas?...yeah, you need to get up here, now."
*.*.*
"How--"
"Is that really important right now? The important thing is they're gone." Castor snapped.
"Marin said he'll start checking the drop boxes and safe houses for any activity." Adair reported, "For now though, we should try to look for any signs about where they might be heading."
"Av's go-bag is missing." Castor said, "Wherever they are, she figures they'll be there a while."
The three of them spread out a little, looking over the space. Castor frowned, seeing a discarded flannel that he'd seen Avanda wearing all day. A flannel, he knew, was really one of Ewan's. It was folded gently, like it was ready to be put away. There was a slight bulge in it, and he frowned as he crossed to the shirt. He pulled the shirt open, the buttons undone, and felt his heart sink as he saw what was wrapped there.
"Addie. Come have a look at this." Adair and Ferret were at his side in a heartbeat, looking over his shoulder. "Is that what I think it is?" Castor let the question fall into the open. His knowledge of Keridwen traditions was substantial, but he wanted to be sure.
Adair lifted it gently. "I think so, yeah."
His wrinkled his nose a little. "Is-is that Av's hair?"
"Yeah." Castor nodded as Adair gently turned the braid over in his hands. "We're fucked."
"Wait, why? What does this have to do with anything?"
Castor lifted a loose end of the braid gingerly as he examined it. Avanda's delicate work was precise and beautiful. The thick main braid was even and smooth, and the two small braids securing either end were so small that he wondered how she'd even managed it.
"What is it?" Ferret asked again.
"Snaidhm Dòchas." Adair answered, "A knot of Hope. It's an old Keridwen custom. There was a legend--" he paused as he chewed his lip, cutting his ramble short to give only the important information. "It's a symbol of mourning, vengeance, and hope. If someone disappeared, their loved ones would often shave one side of their head and save the locks like this. It was a sign of their heartbreak, but also of their hope that the person was still alive."
"And a sign that they were going to go to war to find who they'd lost." Castor added. "When Av got taken by Sevoc; Ewan did the same thing. He just didn't have a braid to show for it because his hair wasn't long enough."
Ferret narrowed his eyes and shot a look at Adair. "And you?"
Adair was confused. "Me?"
"When my sister was taken. You never shaved your hair."
Adair opened his mouth to speak, but Castor beat him to it.
"It's a really old tradition. The tradition itself is practically a legend. No one really does it anymore, and they haven't really for centuries." His jaw was clenched and his voice sharp as he spoke. "It doesn't prove that Ewan loves Avanda anymore than Adair loves Aislin--"
"All it proves is that Ewan and Avanda are both...slightly overdramatic traditionalists, which shouldn't surprise anyone, really." Adair cut his brother off, sensing a potentially long lecture. "Besides, if Ash had been gone much longer, I probably would have."
Ferret's jaw clenched a little and his eyes narrowed some as he considered the explanation. Finally satisfied, he turned to the braid.
"So what do we do with this then?"
Adair shrugged. "We keep it safe until they get back. Keep it with the flannel, and put it--" he froze, frowning.
"What?"
"Well....we're supposed to put it on the mantle. That's the tradition, anyway. But there's not really anything like that here..." Adair turned around, looking for somewhere else to keep it.
"I'll take it." Ferret spoke up, "My mom has a mantle. I don't know if it has to be in their house or if it has to be over a mantle," Ferret shrugged, scowling a little. "But she would be more than happy to keep it."
Adair and Castor shared a look. Castor shrugged.
"It would be easier than sending it to her dad." He admitted. "And she is...basically family to you and Ewan, always has been. I think it'd be appropriate."
Ferret gathered up the flannel, an eyebrow raised at Adair and Castor as he did so, waiting for them to tell him he was doing something wrong. Adair tucked the braid in it, folding it inside the shirt.
"I'll come with you. I'd like to explain everything to her."
#keridwen insp#avanda insp#ewan insp#ewvanda insp#adair insp#its a keridwen thing#castor#ferret insp#worldbuilding#this#this makes me so happy#i love it
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THUNDER!!! WE HAVE THUNDER!!!!
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Actual picture of Avanda looking out the window when it rains.
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Her Royal Majesty Avanda Alistairion, Warrior Queen, Defender and Protector of her People, leader in chief of The Keridwen Military, "The Lady of Swords," Queen of Keridwen. 👑
This is the picrew I used and holy shit there are so many options I love it
#avanda insp#decided to do a royal one of her#i may do a 'normal' or everyday one#but first im gonna do mary#and maybe Nilsine#its a keridwen thing
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Ok. So we all remember how Ewan and Avanda are over dramatic Keridwen traditionalists who shaved half their heads when things got dark and they lost each other, right? Right. Now imagine them all grumpy in the growing it back out phase.
Ewan is mostly ok with it, once it starts to look too weird he cuts the rest of his hair to match it.
He's very grumpy about it bc he liked the length it had been at.
Avanda doesnt do so well.
She hates it
Her hair starts to grow in all sorts of crazy directions, and she hates it.
The cute little girl at the base of her neck is fine.
But the stupid little tuft up by the part where the shaved section starts that refuses to lay flat?
Or the bed head she wakes up with and cant tame to save her life?
Or how stupid it looks since she usually has to wear her hair pulled back for work?
Yeah she hates that.
And its so. Fucking. ITCHY.
She keeps messing with it a lot.
One time Ewan reaches up to play with it and she pouts a little. He scratches her head just a bit and she instantly leans into him like a dog with her eyes closed.
#post brought to you by the massive annoyance im having with mine#its a keridwen thing#keridwen insp#ewan insp#avanda insp
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So we see this poem all the time for foreshadowing inspiration, right? Well obviously as soon as I see it I think about the MacClydes and how theyre pretty superstitious and would know this/hold to it.
But also I find it really comforting that I always see two crows.
#macclyde insp#ewan insp#adair insp#mary insp#william insp#carrick insp#peadar insp#worldbuilding#keridwen insp#its a keridwen thing
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Random Keridwen Worldbuilding: Cerimonial Braids
Keridwen People are very proud, and hair has a big role in their culture.
Intricate braids show status and familial pride
Differnt ceremonies can call for differnt braids or decorations.
Battle Braids done the night before a battle, decorated with symbols of past victories
And everyday braids
(After Avanda's tattoos were cut off, she started doing her hair in Keridwen Braids again. It was her last tie to the home she couldn't remember.)
(They look pretty viking usually)
But today I kinda want to talk about mourning Braids.
While normally braids are left to hang low, mourning braids are tied up on top of the head completely.
No loose ends
Not uncommon to braid in a strand of the loved one's hair
Unlike other braids, absolutely no jewelry or decorations.
just braids.
if the loved one died in battle, braids are accompanied by some makeup,
usually the family/clan battle makeup/ face paint, but in black instead of the traditional clan colors.
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