To stretch beyond our own Wild Imaginings is what we all most wish to do.
~From Tales of Non-Sense, by Intricate Knot
If you look closely you can see both the joy and wound.
All the best characters are flawed. To be perfect holds no fascination. We are drawn to the imperfect, the slightly askew, the weirdly mystic.
Madam Marie is flawed and fascinating. Her story is unbelievable and completely true. In order to make it even a gasp of plausible, we must spin a faery-dark-tale.
Does it sound like I am contradicting myself? Oh no dear, I am not.
Surrounded by Thorns and Black Hearts, Madam Marie conjured a spell to make them useful. Forming them into a screen, she hung them to be televised for all to see. For if we can see the danger, it surely does follow that we can stop it. Or can we?
Because they are forever devious and adept at trickery, growing, multiplying, and changing so quickly, she had to keep her eye on them forever. Forever. Never ceasing. Constant vigilance. My, how utterly exhausting.
Wise(ass) beyond all boring expectations, she unwrapped a sticky sweet sucker of a solution and plucking out her Third Eye, Madam Marie placed it on the Winged Hand. The tireless temperate telling Winged Hand.
Now she can be ever vigilant…without having to sit in obscene obeisance.
Madam Marie is bright and wistful and naturally wanted to grow beyond her beginnings, for the place she had chosen was far darker than she’d imagined. That’s all right because this part of her tale was easier than she’d ever dreamed, though infinitely harder for her to believe.
All she had to do was sacrifice one of her hands.
With barely a hesitation she stretched out her left hand and it grew to be less of a hand and more of a vine.
Yes. It hurt. The hurt of it pierced her heart. Marking it evermore.
But to let Thorns and Black Hearts overrun the Land cannot be allowed. And to stay small and forever un-witnessed?
That would be unbearably sad.