Hello there. Yup, I still have Motivation and Inspiration with me, though Motivation seems to fare better if I just tie him to my wrist like a little child. I almost feel sorry for him, but when I remember how he abandoned me to jump and lead another person on the Literary Road to Completeness for so long… well, lets say I don't feel to kindly for him. Inspiration, that little tiny sprite has made friends with my Muse, Hæme. I do hope she'll stay for a while, I can't keep her caged, she's not beautiful and free-spirited when she caged. I do think that once the author finds her, she doesn't abandon too easily. I can only look at her; all her whispery and bell-like words are only intelligible to Hæme. I suppose that's the purpose of one's Muse. To channel, find and organize the Ideas and things floating around into comprehensible fantasies that an author can translate into Words? I believe so…
"I'm what? You're what?" I stood there, disbelieving. Gods simply don't HAVE children that look completely different than them. Here he was, a richly colored Sun-God, and there I was, a skinny, pale, blatantly east European Caucasian. He continued explaining when he saw my expression.
"Stop thinking in mortal means of parenthood. Sometimes, in very rare cases, a scrap of a God's or Goddess' magic manages to escape and flit down into person. Usually this person is full grown and the connection that the mortal and the immortal feel result in offspring. Such a thing happened between Weiryn and Sarrah, now known and the Green Lady. That's why Daine is a half-god. In other rarer cases, this magic instills in a fetus, a formless blob still.
"That's what happened to you. Being so young, you died within the womb. I was still a young god then, for this was still early in the time of the Old Ones, and their magic was imbedded in anything and everything they did. That's the reason for your odd magic, though your "immortal" stamina comes from me. Mother Flame and Father Universe took pity on you and brought you to life again, though the time you spent in the Realms of the Dead cost you dear. I think you know what fled you and failed to develop the second your life flickered away under the pressure of the God-Magic."
I nodded. I lost something other people took for granted, loved, and others cursed. Something that essentially makes up a human. Emotions. That's why I was such a thrill seeker, such a law-breaker, such a lover of jokes, the adrenaline rush and momentary nice feelings would make me happy, because nothing else could. I took crazy risks, shoplifted, collected various dangerous weapons, and laughed at the saddest events that could ever happen. I simply didn't find them sad or terrible, just funny.
"Why did you do that to me? Why couldn't you just leave me dead? I'd've been better of that way…"
"No no, you were far to rare an occurrence for that, and from a "seed" of a great god? Much to special. Don't worry, though a motherly love has been taken from you, the reason for which you will never be fertile, the Great Mother Goddess appealed for a gift to you. She managed to give you the possibility of true friendship and love. Though you cannot have many true and close friends and lovers, you can have some, who will be dear to you. Though I must continue to tell you of you life up to now.
"You were put in a limbo of sorts, a vast blank space to mature mentally and physically. Unfortunately this took a very long time, millennia's upon millennia's. We were forced to give a world of your own for your mind to dwell in. The one we started and you created held one outlet however, for the real world to come to you…"
"The books." I stated flatly. Suddenly I understood why they had captivated me… they weren't a glimpse into some strange and wonderful place, they were a small but beautiful window into my home. At once I understood my fear and dislike of vast empty spaces. Imagine spending centuries in a void…
"It was an odd world, and unfortunately the demons of your mind would not let it be peaceful and perfect. You created weapons and technology that had no rights to exist, and fortunately cannot, because the theories that you used to explain those things would not work in reality. You world was also magicless, though not without religion. For reasons I cannot decipher, you were "born" into a Christian family and "raised" as such. We managed to manipulate your world to make you an atheist and then, luckily for us, into a Pagan, the closest thing to the truth as we could manage.
"Most of your other knowledge is real though, such as the languages you know. Polish, or something very similar is in actuality Scanran, and French, another language you learned is one of a land to the east. Then, once you were strong enough to take the brunt of your magic, we let you go and you came to in Tortall. We chose this place because you were most comfortable speaking Common, or English as you call it."
"Was my biological father a Scanran then? I suppose it made sense, he DID have the typical blue eyes and blonde hair, but what about my mother? I made her into a dark haired and dark eyed "Ukrainian". Where did she come from really?" I asked, taking this very calmly. I suppose I felt the "rightness" of Tortall, and how out of place I was in my technology driven world.
"She came from a farther east part of Scanra, closer to Galla." He replied, obviously relieved that I wasn't having a hysterical breakdown.
"Makes sense… but what is my purpose here? What am I to do? Here I am, having this awesome power, but no real reason for it."
With a knowing look in his eyes, Mithros, my father in a way (odd thing to think…) simply said, "There's always a reason for everything. I'm sure Wicca taught you that. There are no coincidences and there are no mistakes. There is a reason why you became mature enough to use your magic at this precise moment. You just need to find it… or else it will find you." Then he disappeared again. Leaving me alone in the grand hall. Slowly I looked up, expecting to see the same foreboding blank sky, but instead I saw a mesmerizing clash of colors and patches of sounds that I could only hear if I concentrated on them. It was like an artist took a piece of every moment that was happening and splashed it onto the canvas. If I picked through the pictures I could see certain things happening, only from inside and out, and from all different angles. I saw a woman screaming and throwing blue flames around from the view of a passing bird, but at the same time, from the view of the person fighting with her, but also from the view of something resting on her shoulder, looking up at her enormous face. I picked through the collage of existence in front of me until I found my battle. I saw myself sleeping in a corner, turning fitfully in my slumber.
I want to go there, I thought, and as the grand marble hall faded from view, I knew I would never see it's splendors again… never get a glimpse of anyone else's lives like that again…
Voila. I'm am finished this chapter. I finally now have the basis for which an epic can be formed. Though I don't have a proper plot for it yet, I'm quite capable of figuring out something. It's time to let Inspiration go, she is needed elsewhere. See, there she goes, disappearing into the mist. And since I don't have her I might as well let Motivation free too, he's getting quite jumpy and restless.
With both my guides gone, I'm once more stalled in a rut on the Literary Road to Completion with only my Muse as a companion. I don't mind though, the view is nice, and my spot is comfortable, and I can see that the path I'm on has many possibilities. It just curves away into the horizon, so far in the hills that I cannot see it's end. I'll just sit and wait and chat, and hope Motivation sneaks up and pounces on me soon, to grab my hand and lead me on a whirlwind ride up and down the next couple hills and chapters, with Inspiration, fluttering away in my wake, conversing with my Muse.