Tag Archives: King Tull(y)^*

the path veers away from The Diagonal here

I sat at the Dread Wolf statue. 225, 225. Right on it. I tried not to be scared by the wolves. Luckily the black one was furthest away. Black Dog… reminding me of The Crossroads and my decision long long ago. Tully: I recall.

The Fire Tree, Wonder Years lost. Ignition. The moon is made of cheese.

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no up

“What about the king?” I asked a little later, remembering that he is still groundside.

“Don’t touch the king.”

Petunia then suggested I talk a walk to calm my mind.

“Don’t worry,” he said while seeing me off toward the ferry. “Goodbye!”

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truth

“Tea sir?”

It was Alberta the Selenite butler behind him. He was always there, at the back of the hearth. Waiting to serve. Selenite, huh? Mssr. Gold thought. Wonder if there’s a connection…

… for he had just finished up re-reading photo-novel 12 on the house media feed, where the Rosehaven-Caledonia fictional universe was conceived. The one that featured Merry Gouldbusk as Princess-Queen, *not* the actual Princess ruler of Rosehaven. That would be Selena. In the universe of the here and now, where Caledonia is not Caledonia but Caledon, the somewhat larger micro-continent just south of Rosehaven. At the end of photo-novel 12 the two lands were united again, just like in olden days. I’d have to check back but I’d guess when Rosehaven was called Winterfell, the name changed several years ago to distance Selena’s realm from the Winterfell region in “Game of Thrones,” growing beyond cult status at the time to achieve universal recognition. Enough, said the Princess. She tired of telling outsiders that this was *not* a “Game of Thrones” role playing region. And so Rosehaven was born from Winterfell in Our Second Lyfe.

On the official Realm of Rosehaven blog, under the Chronicles header, you’ll find a good number of fictional stories about Rosehaven already, most of a much more serious and detailed look at the land and people populating it than my own. But a cool link is a concept called The Mist (or Myst or Mists, et al), an agreed upon unifying element that actually hides (or can hide) Rosehaven from the rest of Our Second Lyfe for protection (if needed). But like all powerful agents, The Mist has a darker side. Princess Selena herself is a product of The Mist, having shown up at her aunt’s door out of the blue in 2012, a physical manifestation of its trickster aspect, it seems.*

And so now, as a land owner in Rosehaven, I’ve had dealings with the real Princess. Dare I tell her of my fake ruler: Princess Merry Gouldbusk? And then there’s Ingo, her fake big brother who also rules after the death of their mother and father, the King and Queen (also fake).

Then there’s the curious, little detail of a storyline by Merri(Kat) in the official Rosehaven chronicles. Interesting wormholes here, with more to be found I’m guessing. How far have the wayward fingers of The Mist penetrated? All the way to… Earth?


*footnote:
By this I mean *The Mist* is a trickster at times, *not* Princess Selena, who seems to be a decent and wholesome elven type being all around from what I’ve read and heard! Direct quote from the blog post on her origins, then. Serra Anansi, her mother, is the speaker:

A baby in a basket?! The Mist?! And then I suddenly remembered making an off-handed joke at Mr. Drinkwater’s rez day party about having a baby. I do like to see him sweat and try to be diplomatic about such outlandish things and you know how wonderful he is at finding the most ingenious ways to divert the conversation to more proper topics.

I ran to the window, still able to see the very last fingers of The Mist evaporating on the horizon and I called out to it “I WAS KIDDING!!!!”

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deeper

Aunt (Golden) Josephine goes to the cemetery to pay her respects and receives a surprise.

“Aah. Tully you old rascal. Dug up again.” Josephine shakes her metallic head, making it slightly rattle. Something gold was loose within. “They should have never allowed that passage in the memoirs mentioning wanting to be buried with the ring, tsk tsk tsk.”

“Good thing I dug you up *first*.” She slips it on, stares forward across the bay. “Now who would take the whole *body* this time. Full cavity search?”

She can see it in her mind’s eye now.

A bear? she thinks. Purple? Aah, must be Purple Wolverine changing shapes again, she realizes with higher insight once more. Hiding out at the old quarry ’til things simmer down, huh?  Well… *two* can play that game.

She removes the ring before more ill will is done to her soul. She knows enough for today.

Time to report this grave robbery to the authorities. Ironic that Purple Wolverine use to be the local authority. Before the mist got him.

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Sideways

“I am The Light, The Way. No one comes before Me.”

“What’s happening to Me? No. Noooooo!!!”

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isle not aisle (but related)

Tropp knew there was a danger of being trapped in New Eden forever. Far out, like Planet X. Beyond Pluto even. But did he care? Probably not — in and of himself.

But there was Hidi to think of. Or Hayden. She changes each day. She’s at Rosehaven, in The Waste, at The End of Time, in Nascera. Everywhere the family is, she is too.

But most of all currently, she’s on Dog I. With the Cat.

—–

“If you reopen the passage to Caledonia the water will rise and swallow the island. Let the child decide instead. I decree this from my Coffin World.”

King Tull(y) had already made up his golden mind, inner and outer in resonance. “Did you enjoy the spirits tonight, Great Queen? They sang my molten name loud and clear through the silver fog.” He turned his head. “The child will obey me.”

She didn’t look up from her book. “The old ‘you have yours, I have mine’ routine, then.”

The king coldly simmered a minute before acting again.

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shape pullers

She’d finished the 3oth and last of Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Goldberg Variations” and waited for accolades that never came. This time was different.

“Your daughter plays superbly, King Tully.”

The king acted surprised, then: “Tull please. The spirits flaunt their wears at 12 midnight. You must stay up for it. Every night it happens without fail. Music as well. The spirits sometimes say it’s for a Benefit, sometimes they’re just Living in the Past, they decree, sometimes for a forgotten War Child, and then, most mysteriously of all, for the Passion Play. The play of life itself. Daughter Merry Gouldbusk is fair. But the spirits play a superb and haunting tale weaving in and out of itself.

“The daughter is good too,” Monsieur Gold reinforces, knowing the difficulty of the pieces just performed. Merry Gouldbusk beams inside — a little ray of sunshine enters her cold, metallic life. I will marry this man, she states inwardly. I will show father what he can do with his Jimmy Fisks of the world.

“Let me show you something, Monsieur Gold,” the king then commands while rising. “The mystery of my name.” He turns to his daughter, who awaits orders. He bows his head toward her. “You can come with us.”

God I hate that man, she thinks for the millionth time.

—–

“Are these the… spirits?”

“No. I’m afraid not.” King Tully’s voice betrayed disdain. In fact, one could tell from only a short time that the king held contempt for everyone and everything around him. Except the “Great Queen”, as he always addressed her. Always the full name Merry Gouldbusk for the daughter, though. “This is the perpetual choir, currently on shutdown.”

Herbert Gold stared at each frozen character in turn. “So… it’s not a perpetual choir. Since they’re not singing currently. To be perpetual…”

“They sing within,” interrupts King Tully. “There is no difference in the play of life between inward and outward. It’s all golden appearances and then golden opinions and values. Everything counts equally if you’re gold. Isn’t that right Merry Gouldbusk?”

“Yes,” the trailing daughter dutifully utters without thinking of her father’s nonsensical speech too much, a long honed practice.

“And… the name?” Herbert Gold was becoming impatient with the king perpetually sitting on his high horse.

“Name?” King Tully returns coldly.

“You said you had something to show *us*” — he indicates both himself and the trailing Merry Gouldbusk here — “about your name. A mystery I think you put it.”

“Oh, that will come with the spirits. Look for the shapes in the air. Golden in hue, of course.”

“Some silver,” his daughter interjects, then quickly regrets it. He turns toward her. One could say he glowers at her, but a glower without emotion, if that makes sense. Emotionless rage?

About 20 seconds pass. Herbert Gold wonders if the king will smite his fair daughter, something he *definitely* doesn’t want to witness. But he simply bows (again) and turns back to Mssr. Gold. “Gold,” he reinforces. “With *some* silver.”

Merry Gouldbusk declares another small victory today.

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Forest Floor

The two lovers’ hearts beat as one again from this direction, King Anderson Tully thinks from his rocky perch.

But I must get back to the castle. New guests are arriving! Filling the void of the old.

“He said he’d give us a great deal, April Mae. 300 linden dollars a month. Just like one of the Absinthe cottages.” Mssr. Gold turns. “April Mae? Where’d she go?”

The king approached.

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