#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 97: 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

#Wss366 Odd #TimeTravelAuthors 05/3 Old buildings in your story

Chaos swirled all around us, making it just possible that we might escape detection. However, that slim chance plunged to zero, thanks to my clothes. If I had worn a neon sign, I couldn’t have been more obvious.

I manifested the religious robes of our guide. They were distinctive, but the hood hid my fair complexion and blonde hair. There was a risk that my act of “sorcery” would backfire, but capture by the Templars would have had an unfortunate ending. Ms. Dubois’ fate was an example of how ruthless the Lapan Cabal was.

The youth had backed us against a wall, and the two guards partially screened us from view. While the odds had improved, I still didn’t like them. Sorcery was my answer to correct that. It wouldn’t cause any harm since I had already broken that taboo.

“Find out what’s on the other side of this wall,” I said in English so Emily would understand. Then, turning to our guide, I resumed in French. “Where can we find you?”

“Tonight at St. George’s Shrine,” he answered. “God be with you.”

I didn’t have time to consider how odd his lack of surprise was. Instead, I focused on the soldiers pushing through the crowd. Their white surcoats with red Maltese crosses marked them as Knights of the Temple of Solomon. Despite their holy orders, they lay about themselves freely with swords and maces, unconcerned by the harm they caused.

A few moments later, Emily returned, saying, “It’s a courtyard surrounded by old buildings. I didn’t see anyone, so we should be safe there.”

Closing my eyes, I willed myself into insubstantiality. I had become quicker at it, but it was still tiring. Without waiting, I thrust my arms into the wall behind us, ignoring the unpleasant muddy sensation, and pushed my way through it.

On the far side, I collapsed onto the courtyard’s flagstones, panting. A glance revealed arches on the lower floor. Vines climbed these on trellises, draping red and white flowers along the second floor's veranda railing. A nearby lemon tree lightly perfumed the air.

I was safe for the moment.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #Serial #Slowburn #Yuri

#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch

Okiku (Airisu POV): Post 33 Part 2
#Wss366 Mug

[Continued from previous post]

Mistress took the last step forward, picking up the book. “Something new is written here,” she said, beginning to read.

Phantasm
Storehouse laid bare
Echo whisper
Through the water mirror
Bullrushes intertwined

“I just dreamed of being in a well,” she said. “Could that be ‘the water mirror?’ What’s the rest mean?”

I scratched my head and cocked it, gazing silently back at her. It was a puzzling piece of verse.

“Well, Airisu?” she said.

Hmph. Figures, I was Airisu again, not Crow. But I could be magnanimous and overlook the earlier slight.

“‘Phantasm,’ ‘echo,’ and ‘whisper’ are ephemeral,” I said. “Yet they’re used here to describe something revealed, i.e., the ‘storehouse laid bare.’ What about dreams, thoughts, or wishes? As you pointed out, the fourth line refers to your dream. I don’t have a clue what it means, but it seems important. The last verse sounds naughty. Were you dreaming about you know what, by any chance?”

She blushed and quickly corrected me, “No, not at all. I was an abused woman counting plates in a well. A crow came and told me to wait for someone. Then it ended.”

“Okiku,” I said. “That’s the woman’s name. It’s from a famous play, ‘The Dish Mansion at Banchō’”

“I’ve heard that story. Everyone has. She’s thrown into a well for breaking a valuable plate.”

“In most versions, she’s innocent,” I corrected. “The samurai Aoyama hid the plate and attempted to blackmail her to be his mistress.”

“Right, right, right. But what does it mean?”

I would have shrugged if I could have. “It’s beyond me. What does it say under that?” I asked, peering at the crabbed handwriting beneath the poem.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #Crows #Otherkin #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #Serial #SlowBurn #Yuri #Folklore

#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch

Okiku (Airisu POV): Post 33 Part 1
#Wss366 Mug

“Ack!” I screamed.

With aggressive footsteps, Mistress rushed into the room, arms swinging, and head thrust forward. It screamed danger.

“Fly away!!!”

She wore a nightgown and a wrap around her shoulders. Her eyes were as fierce as Dōken-shin’s had been when I bravely stood up to him.

I quailed, taking off for the top of a bookshelf. From there, I shouted down, “Crack. The book! The book!”

She moved, and I crouched, ready to take off if she threw something at me.

Instead, she stood in the middle of the floor, arms on her hips, glaring up at me. “This is the middle of the night. It had better be worth it, 'Crow!'”

Discretion being the better part of valor, I decided not to correct her this time. “It’s the book. You have to see it,” I cawed.

“What book? What are you talking about?”

She moved again, and I hopped back.

“Can I come down? You won’t hurt me?” I asked.

She nodded, and I flew down to a desk near the window. Through the glass, the moon shone aqua-blue, illuminating a messy pile of papers and books. A cold #mug of cocoa lay amid remnants of last evening’s meal. In the center of the mess rested an open volume, which I pecked at. “See? It’s here.”

Sumika approached, asking, “What’s here?” She stopped short and stared. “That’s not where I left the grimoire. How did it get here?”

Indeed, the Madousho Mōrō, aka Grimoire Obscuriea, lay with its pages gleaming in the soft moonlight.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #Crows #Otherkin #Fantasy #UrbanFantasy #Serial #SlowBurn #Yuri