The Elsewhere is a deep place. It is beyond the grasp of
human cognition, untouched by the cloying grasp of natural law, and indifferent
to the rules of physics. Deep in the Elsewhere, the Courts play their games of
Summer and Winter. They play their games with humans too. Dancing with those
living too close to the soft spots of the world.
Fae enjoy these
games. The logic of pandemonium and disorder of the Elsewhere gets tedious for
beings as eternal as the Good Neighbours, and so they surface from the shallows
to crawl about the material world.
They compel their flotsam,
volatile particles into more constrained shapes. Taking inspiration from the
dreams and nightmares of humans, they become named things, able to gleefully
tread through a world bound by rules: kelpies, kitsune, banshees, huldra,
púca, and nissies.
The Fair Folk emerged
in Elsewhere University: a place of study for half-grown human spawn, a place
built by a decedent of the old Éire homeland in the late 1800’s, and a place
that became a home for the Hill thirty-three years later. The Founder of the
University died before the Courts made it into their kingdom, but he gave it a
special name. This name was lost, traded, or stolen (no one alive can recall)
when the Gentry came calling, and the then Dean made deals that day to ensure a
balance at the newly named Elsewhere University. They soon adapted to the
sports fields, to hallways, to dorms, adopting the Campus as their home. They
kept to themselves mostly, during this time. Almost all the students remaining
In 1953, the tentative
tranquility of the University was broken. From their stronghold beneath the
Grand English Building, the Fae were ousted by the Wyrm. They learnt fear that
year, and fled. Fear of flame and storm and venom drove them from the western corner
of Elsewhere University, out of their shadows and into the light.
Smaller Courts were
constructed in the aftermath. Summer and Winter became defined, and the Gentry
walked alongside the students of Elsewhere University. Striking deals, taking
what they liked, playing their games. The students learnt quickly. Through
instinct, through dumb luck, and from the folklore of old Éire, they learnt.
Although still bound
by the Treaty, the Fae still enjoyed dancing with the students of EU. Changelings
traded, and students Taken. Friendship and respect was grown, alongside hatred
and fear on both sides. The balance of power, once thought by the Fae to be in
their favour, was violently shifted in the 1980’s when they went too far and
took the wrong professor. With Flaming Iron and Colloidal Silver, the Fae were
reminded why the Earth belonged to the humans.
In the recent years,
a guidebook of sorts was created to help students co-exist with the Good Neighbours.
Considered the most dangerous form of contraband, it was only distributed online
to avoid the attention of the Fae. It was given the title; Coexisting With
The Fair Folk Who Have Taken Up Residence In/Around/Beneath Your University: A
How-To Guide.While disguised as a
comic, an artistic expression that wouldn’t be taken too seriously outside of
the Involved, it has been invaluable for those studying at Elsewhere University.
However, the Courts
have noticed. They do not appreciate the Artist’s work, and while they are
unable to remove the Guide, they can remove the Artist.
Note: This is a brief history of Elsewhere University, as taken from the numerous posts and stories based around the work of charminglyantiquated. These were the main canon events that I could find and squash together to make a vague timeline of EU, but I’m sure I missed a few, so by all means let me know so I can update.
Some of the more noticeable aforementioned events were originally prompted by dragon-saint, bookscrazygirl-blog, and of course, charminglyantiquated (sorry for turning the Fair Folk against you).
Outside of Yarnell, Arizona, in the scenic Bradshaw Mountains, is the Shrine of St. Joseph. These eerie and haunting statues occupy nooks and crannies in the granite boulders, under a canopy of juniper and oak trees. Carved in the 1940s by folk artist Felix Lucero, the shrine features scenes from the life of Jesus Christ, including the crucifixion, the Garden of Gethsemane, and the empty tomb.
The area around the shrine was destroyed by a wildfire in 2013, the same fire that killed 19 firefighters. This was the deadliest event for American firefighters since 9/11.
I’m in love with the shape of you We push and pull like a magnet do Although my heart is falling too I’m in love with your body Last night you were in my room And now my bed sheets smell like you Every day discovering something brand new I’m in love with your body
Bitty sleeps on the train to New York. Kent had offered to fly him into JFK. But Bitty traded him for the opportunity to skip out on ungodly long TSA lines in exchange for covering his Uber to his place. The Uber should take 15 minutes. But of course this is one of the busiest places on Earth, and sometimes Bitty feels like he has a special brand of dumb luck.
He rubs his temple as he checks everyone’s snap stories for the umpteenth time. He thinks he could’ve walked there by now. Then again, who knows how long it would take to walk around Central Park with his overnight bag. It would also be incredibly easy to get lost trying to find Harlem.
Pedestrians and bikes flicker by. He thinks he’ll get a crick in his neck from how much he’s staring up in awe. The buildings are grimy but still so brilliantly lit. Clouds continue to rumble over head. New York reminds him of ants scrambling—quick and with purpose.
Bitty slumps further back in his seat, deciding to play another round of candy crush.
“So what are you in town for?” his driver asks.
Bitty stiffens. Part of him instinctively wants to lie. His mind already has a story about visiting his cousin who’s going to grad school at Columbia but found this cute little place in Har—
He sighs. It’s New York for fuck’s sake. If this man gives him shit, he can just open the door and walk into the world’s slowest traffic.
“Meeting my boyfriend’s family,” Bitty murmurs.
The driver hums. “When I met my wife’s parents, it was the absolute worst.”
Bitty snorts indulgently. “You don’t say?”
“Oh yea,” the driver says amicably. “Her mother was on the city council and her father owned a butcher’s shop. Her mother made a joke that if I ever hurt her, they could make my death look like a freak accident.”
Are you sad you never made it out to the Miskatonic River Valley to stop at the old Mystery site up on Sentinel Hill? Some folks say that it was just a way of separating people from their money, but we In The Know know the site is capable of separating much more than that!