EARTH (Prosperity and success) Yew: Able to live for thousands of years, the yew spirit is a witness to the passage of our immortal souls through many lifetimes. It offers a glimpse of eternity, a reminder of our direct contact with past, present and future.
Elder: A tree of regeneration and rebirth, sacred to the Earth Mother, with every part of the tree blessed with healing powers. If we respect its powerful, primeval presence, the elder spirit will honour us with protection, healing and guidance.
Oak: Strength, endurance, courage, inner nourishment. A doorway to other dimensions, to higher realms of truth, to the wisdom of elemental power. The oak is high king, guardian of the fertility of the land and its people.
Elm: A tree of mystery, home to the elven folk. Restores our life force by cleansing any feelings which inhibit its flow – i.e. despair, despondency, self-doubt, unworthiness. It encourages renewed faith in the value of our life’s work.
AIR (Knowledge and inspiration) Beech: “There is nothing new under the sun – only truth and beauty” – so counsels the beech. Her gentle magic can inspire us to let go of old patterns and fixed attitudes, and to see more of the good that is in the world.
Aspen: Shields us from fear and anxiety, and helps us to feel more trustful of the unknown, unseen and unfamiliar. Aspen helps us to connect with and manifest the source of our inner strength.
Pine: Purifies, cleanses, transforms our negative moods and self-judgement. Pine heightens our awareness and our perspective, revealing new insights and refreshing our spirit.
Birch: New beginnings, birth, inception. The vital force, powerful in its shining innocence, symbolising the positive aspects of the process of constant change, driving out old, stale energy to make way for a fresh start.
Hazel: Knowledge , wisdom, intuition, creative leaps beyond the bounds of normal perception. Connection with the wellsprings of consciousness, fostering communication, self-discovery and crcreativity
Gorse: A hardy tenacious shrub, gorse has an aura of contentment, fulfilment, optimism. Even in winter its flowers glow with the sunshine of renewed hope and inner strength.
FIRE (Energy and change) Holly: Balance, centredness, integrity. Holly shows its vivid, shining presence even in the depths of winter. Helps us to avoid fiery over-reactions towards others, arising from our oversensitivity and impatience.
Rowan: Its scarlet berries have the brilliance of a beacon on a mountain top. Used in divination, healing, and whenever protection is needed against unwelcome spirits and unwanted influences.
Heather: A tonic for a jaded spirit, reviving and soothing. It also restores our trust in the perfection of the universe, and the unfolding of our life process within it. Hawthorn: A healer of the heart, a tree of joyous festivities, the marriage of love and life in action – perhaps after a period of inaction, restraint, self-denial, reflection. Guardian of sacred springs and wells.
Blackthorn: A guide through the darkness, back to the light. Helps us face our deepest fears and buried emotions, our dark side. This is a process of cleansing and renewal, leading to a sudden, spontaneous flowing of the spirit.
WATER (Healing and Love) Alder: Alder finds its strength in water, but it also has fiery qualities. If we are feeling emotionally drained or diverted , it can help us find the determination to stay true to our purposes when circumstances threaten to overwhelm us. It is also an oracle of vision and foresight, helping us to prepare wisely for the future.
Willow: Its miraculous fertile life force helps us to be more sensitive to the ebb and flow of our deepest feelings, dreams, visions, intuitions. It teaches us how the growth of understanding is rooted in total acceptance of our life situation, as it is, now.
Ash: The world tree of the ancients, spanning the universe, connecting everything. It links the inner and outer worlds, helping us to assimilate knowledge gained on a psychic level, and to manifest it in practical ways. It also strengthens our will-power and resolve.
Apple: A symbol of beauty, love, inner and outer harmony. It symbolises living life to the full, focusing mind and heart together positively. Whilst life’s fruitfulness is there to be enjoyed, we must also make choices and learn not to dissipate our energy in the pursuit of too many goals.
Ivy: A tenacious climber, ivy represents the inner search for the higher self, the spiral dance through the maze of life’s challenges. In this process of self-transformation, originality and uniqueness are the keys to unlock habitual patterns of behaviour.
Just a reminder for me, and everyone who needs it. Has something gone wrong in your life? Are you facing a challenge? Whatever it is, find peace in the knowledge that God makes all things, good or bad, work together for your good. All things. That includes every obstacle you face, and every loss you suffer. God leaves no stone unturned. It may seem like things are bad, but God is in control, and He won’t let anything happen that doesn’t have a place in His big plan for you. We may not see it, but everything happens for a reason. God is connecting the dots and one day, everything will come together.
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. Romans 8:28 (NLT)
You know of The Knights. Those who lost too much, and decided to reclaim what was theirs, or at least to extract vengeance. Those that lost too little, but decided to help others, or at least protect themselves. Wreathed in iron and salt, proud descendants-in spirit, and sometimes blood- of chemistry majors that stormed Underhill and saved their professor. Children of new world, where Gentry have been gone for too long, humans who can and will fight, instead of cowering and trebling in darkness.
It is often said of Others that their deeds are grand and shallow, while those of humans are far less extraordinary but infinitely more honest. Fair Folk’s cruelty is sharp and cold thing, which no mortal can stomach. Their kindness is fleeting and hard to understand, and it pales in comparison to unbridled depth of generosity and altruism of mortal spirit, that gives without second thought, that reads sad story and cries even if it is fictional, that will let themselves be run over by car to save unfamiliar child and expect nothing in return
But it works other way too.
Cruelty of fair Folk is misunderstood, unmeant thing, given and thrown without care (nor possibility) to understand mortal minds. But even most vindictive of Gentry cannot summon sheer strength and conviction of mortal hatred, that burning, horrible thing that takes and breaks without rules, without excuse or debts, so convinced it is their right, that will whip somebody for being different and call it justice. Kindness of Others may have to be earned, or come at cost, or feel hollow, but it is always magnificent, and unforgettable, and true-they do not lie, after all.
And after all, the Others always demand recompensation, the price, the balance. Humans have their knights. Fae have their dreamers.
They are less famous, for they are much more subtle. They aren’t nearly as well organized (for their loyalty is personal to few fae, not all), but more cunning. They are just as driven and just as dangerous.
Triple-taken. Enthralled. Silver servants.Too-much-lost. By those few that know of them, they are known as The Dreamers. Humans broken, exploited and abandoned by their own kind, saved and nurtured and protected by fey. Some are servants, others are pets. Some are beloved, whether as fiends or family or lovers, while others are viewed as charitable, helpful workers and partners worthy of praise (and most dangerous are ones who are worshippers of fae, who have been broken too much or seen too deep in Else to be anything else).
They are tragic people, most often those who are abused and forgotten, who should have perished but didn’t. Ones who were in such desperate situations that only miracle could save them. And in sense, it did. Fae swooped down, with their magic and wonder and not quite right forms, motivated either by debt or curiosity or simply because they saw something extraordinary in mortal and didn’t want to see it extinguished. And such acts revived lost spirits, inflamed their hearts with fires of loyalty, too hot and too strong to be extinguished by anything but death. For freedom and kindness and right to again dream their own dreams, those humans swore fealty of their own will to a fae.
There is no magic, no manipulation on part of fae. Such thing doesn’t make Dreamer, but a slave. No, life must willingly be relinquished, choice freely made, to become a Dreamer. Still free, still as human as they were before, but loyal and capable to death.
You will find those stories wherever you look if you are careful enough. Neandhertal elders, left in snow by their tribes for they were too old, too expensive, brought to safety and warmth and full belly by strange shining creatures, half animals, half men of gold and dew.
Girls suffering under (step)mothers and fathers and uncles and sisters, made to work and told they are ugly and stupid and not good enough,made in queens by glass slippers or diamond falling out of their mouth thanks to old (old as trees, as rain and seasons) godmothers wielding strange wands.
Children bullied, beaten for being different from their peers, healed and protected by beasts from shadows.
Women imprisoned in their own homes, trapped by lack of money and false love finding their their husbands banished and their bruises healed by living flame and swirling winds.
Boys left to die by muggers or sadists and false, jealous friends, abandoned on road or in deep shadows of wood or beneath lakes, carried under the hill and almost revived by beautiful things that obey alien geometrics and wear colors unknown to human eyes.
“Weirdos” and outcasts whipped and imprisoned in churches and temples by enemies they didn’t know they had or friends that should have cared, set free and hidden by handsome men garbed in leaves and with cat’s eyes.
They live for and because of and with fae that saved them, becoming stronger, healthier, more confident-and less and less bound to mortality, bonds with their own kind weakened by misery and gratitude and magic that encompasses all Others touch. Their agents in mortal , their hands that can withstand iron and salt and whatever belief of land calls protection.Sometimes they simply take care of fae’s household, or bring them nice treats from above. Sometimes they are messengers, or guardians of beloved locations where space isn’t yet thin enough. And sometimes, they are seducers and intermeditaries of deals, and sometimes yet, agents that Take other mortals.
Those who know of them either hate or pity fate of Dreamers (and most often both). But The Dreamers themselves are happy and satisfied with their lives, with beauty and magic and truth and justice and so much (beautiful,terrifying,strange, confusing) that they receive. And if you want to get rid of them, well…
Look out for your fellow humans, and think what life must look like when a Good Neighbor is best thing that happened to us.
Now, tell me where are my Good friend’s belongings.
Georges Washington de Lafayette was born on December 24th, 1779. Adrienne wrote to her husband rather icily at his army camp. She offered sarcastic recognition of her husband’s many responsibilities in the military, she scolded him or not being with her and their new child. The baby’s full name wsa Georges Louis Gilbert Washington de Motier Marquis de Lafayette, he would always call himself George Washington Lafayette. The one he was named after, George Washington, became his godfather.
May 1781, Adrienne wrote that Georges “nearly died teething” and left her “weakened by anxieties”. During Gilbert de Lafayette’s second-to-last visit to America in 1784-1785, his returning ship ran aground and repairs delayed his departure home for a week. General Greene and Henry Knox had come to see him off, and the three spent long hours together reminiscing with Alexander Hamilton. Lafayette urged Greene, Hamilton and Knox to send their boys to him in Paris for several years of European education. He promised in turn, he would send his own boy, George Washington to them. Lafayette said he wanted his son educated at Harvard.
Unlike other European parents, Adrienne and Gilbert did not keep their children at a distance with tutors; they adored their children openly, embraced them spontaneously and showed them off to all their guests. Benjamin Franklin listened with a smile as seven-year-old Anastasie and five-year-old George sang children’s songs in English. Georges used to also help his father attach his sheathed sword and other military trappings.
When Georges was ten years old, one guard unit sought to make him an honorary second lieutenant, his father turned the honor into theater: “Gentlemen,” he proclaimed to the assembled militiamen, “my son is no longer mine; he belongs to you and to our nation.”–and the troops roared as Georges stepped forward and stood at attention in his snappy-looking new uniform in the Paris guards. Felix Frestel was his tutor, starting when he was eleven years of age; he was a principal of the College de Plessis, his father’s secondary school, the Lafayettes retained him to tutor their son privately until he was old enough to enroll in classes.
During the Reign of Terror, while Gilbert de Lafayette was in prison and Adrienne was just being arrested. The police nearly to their home, Adrienne ordered a governess to flee with ten year old Virginie to a nearby farmer’s house, while thirteen year old Georges and his tutor Frestel rushed into the woods and fifteen year old Anastasie hid in a secret in cubby in one of the towers. Unaware of her husband’s fate, Adrienne (on house arrest) grew fearful for the survival her only son–the only person who could inherit his father’s name and fortune. Every once and a while, Frestel would descend from the mountain hideaway late at night and report on her son’s health and his future. They agreed on a plan to obtain a false license and passport as a merchant and go to the port at Bordeaux with Georges, who would feign the role of his apprentice.
When Adrienne was released by Elizabeth Monroe’s manipulation, James and Elizabeth Monroe both aided Adrienne in acquiring a fake passport, ID and changed Georges name in order for him to be able to travel to the United States undeterred. Monroe obtained government counterstamps on their passports for them to go to America, with the boy traveling as “George Motier.” Adrienne gave Frestel a letter for president Washington written in French, which she hoped the American president would be able to read and understand:
[Translated French-English] “Sir, I send you my son… It is deep and sincere confidence that I entrust this dear child to the protection of the United States (which he had long regarded as his second country and which I have long regarded as our sanctuary), and to the particular protection of their president, whose feelings towards the boy’s father I well know. The bearer of this latter, sir, has, during our troubles, been our support, our resource, our consolation, my son’s guide. I want him to continue in that role… I want them to remain inseparable until the day we have the joy of reuniting in the land of liberty. I owe my own life and those of my children to this man’s generous attention… My wish is for my son to live in obscurity in America; that he resume the studies that three years of misfortune have interrupted, and that far from lands that might crush his spirit or arouse his violent indignation, he can work to fulfill the responsibilities of a citizen of the United States… I will say nothing here about my own circumstances, nor those of one for whom I feel far greater concern than I do for myself. I leave it to the friend who will present this letter to you to express the feelings of a heart which has suffered too much to be conscious of anything but gratitude, of which I owe much to Mr. Monroe… I beg you, Monsieur Washington, to accept my deepest sense of obligation, confidence, respect and devotion.”
At Olmutz prison, Adrienne coaxed the prison commander to let her write to specific family members, whom she had identified with each letter obtain approval. He read every word she wrote and rejected a letter written to her son. The received occasional news from the outside, the rest of the Lafayette family heard Georges arrived safely in Boston in September of 1795. Adrienne did not know was that her son’s arrival plunged his godfather, the American president, into a potentially embarrassing political and diplomatic situation that posed dangers to the Lafayette family. George Washington was unable to publicly offered sanctuary to Georges in the America because the French might consider it a threat to their neutrality. Washington decided to leave the boy in New England until the government recessed later in the year and he could move to Mount Vernon. Washington asked Massachusetts senator George Cabot to enroll young Lafayette incognito at Harvard college, “the expense of which as also of every other means for his support, I will pay.” Washington also wrote to his godson: “to begin to fulfill my role of father, I advise you to apply yourself seriously to your studies. Your youth should be usefully employed, in order that you may deserve in all respects to be considered as the worthy son of your illustrious father.”
In America, Georges studied at Harvard, was a house guest of George Washington at the presidential mansion in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and at the Washington family home in Mount Vernon, Virginia. Young Lafayette chose to make his way to New York where he waited in hopes to join Washington in Philadelphia and lived with the Washington’s for the next two years. He also stayed with Alexander Hamilton in his New York home.
The Lafayette family, Georges’s two sisters, his mother and his father were released from prison in 1797, but it wasn’t until 1798 that Georges was able to return to France. In February, on a sunny day, Georges–who had just turned nineteen–arrived back in Europe to the embrace of his family; he also brought with him a letter from George Washington. His father had not seen him in six years. Initially at Cambridge, then a few weeks with Alexander Hamilton in New York, before going to the Washingtons in Mount Vernon after the president’s retirement. On his return to France, George first went to Paris, where he found only blackened stone shell of his beautiful boyhood home on the rue de Bourbon. George’s arrival in Holstein revived the spirits of all exiled families.
“He is perfect physically: tall, with a noble and charming face. His temperament is all that we could wish is all that we could wish. He had the same kind heart that you remember, and his mind is far more mature than is usual for his age.” Lafayette wrote to his Aunt. Virginie wrote to her as well, “My brother is grown so tall, that when he arrived we could scarcely recognize him, but we have found all those qualities in him that we always knew. He is just as good a brother as he was at Chavaniac. He is so like Papa that people in the streets can see immediately that his his son.” While attempting to retain the family land that the Lafayette’s lost when it was all confiscated, Adrienne returned to Paris for a second time to try at negotiation–this time she brought Georges with her, who, she believed might intimidate government clerks more than Virginie.
Georges also was a prod at his father, who was writing his Memoires and who would grow impatient when Georges wasn’t there to coax him to write it. Mid-1799, Gilbert grew impatient with Adrienne’s constant absences, “It is two years today, dear Adrienne, since we left the prison to which you came, bringing me consolation and life… How can we arrange our spending the winter together?”
In the Spring of 1802, George Washington de Lafayette married Emilie de Tracy, the daughter of Destutt de Tracy, a renowned philosopher who had served in the Constituent Assembly with Lafayette and as a cavalry commander under him at the frontier in 1792, just before Lafayette fled France. Pere Carrichon, the priest who had blessed three of Adrienne’s family members as they marched up to the guillotine, performed the ceremony. After the wedding, the Lafayette’s and the de Tracy’s went south together for a long visit to the Chavaniac–”to share our new found happiness with our old aunt, who still had all her faculties,” according to Virginie.
Italy rebelled against French rule and Georges and his brother-in-law were called to military service. His mother and his father were responsible for caring for his wife, she had just given birth to a little baby girl. He served as a second lieutenant in the French Army under Napoleon Emperor Napoleon blocked every promotion for Gilbert’s son and sons-in-law, prevented them from ranking up in the army despite the highest recommendations of their commanders. During one battle, George suffered a minor wound saving the life of General Grouchy to whom he was an aide-de-comp for and had given up his horse for during battle.
1805, Russia and Austria joined Britain in a new coalition against France, but French armies swept northward through Austria and crushed a combined Austro-Russian army at the decisive battle of Austerlitz in Moravia (now eastern Czech Republic). Two days later Austria sued for peace, and the Russian army limped home to Mother Russia to lick its wounds. In 1806, Napoleon destroyed the Prussian army at Lena and extended the French empire eastward to Warsaw. With peace at hand, with no chance for promotion, and with their military commitments complete, Georges Washington and his two brother-in-laws resigned their commissions. Although his father grumbled at the emperor’s pettiness, Adrienne rejoiced to have the boys home safely; she wanted no more knights in the family and reveled in the presence of the three young couples and their children, all of whom made La Grange their permanent home.
August 1807, Georges and his father went to visit the elder Lafayette’s Aunt Charlotte and inspect the Chavaniac properties. In their absence, Adrienne developed terrible pains and high fever; she began vomiting uncontrollably, unable to retain any food or liquid. They moved near Paris and Lafayette and George raced up from Chavaniac from La Grange. Both refusing to leave her bedside.
In March 1814, George introduced his father to the young duc d’Orleans. 1821, they both returned to their home on the rue d’Anjou. In his father’s later years Georges was always hovering at his side. Georges helped him with his Memoires and his voluminous correspondence. At six each evening, the courtyard bell sounded dinner, and as many as thirty people poured into the huge dining room–Lafayette’s children and grandchildren. Virginie and Anastasie sat opposite their father as hostesses, Georges always sat beside him. 1820, thirty nine year old Georges and Lafayette organized a group of young liberals into a new political club, Les Amis de la Liberte de la Presse. In the Autumn of 1821, King Louis XVIII posted spies outside La Grange, considering arresting Lafayette and Georges.
On Gilbert de Lafayette’s last trip to America, Georges accompanied him. “My brave light infantry!” his father cried out once, “That is exactly how their uniforms looked. What courage! How I loved them!” In an accident, a boat they were taking sunk and they were assured into lifeboats and rowed to shore. At bunker hill, Lafayette gathered soil from the ground, placing it into a tiny flask and told Georges to sprinkle the soil across his grave when he passed so that he would be apart of two countries when he was buried. Throughout most of the trip, he stayed close company with his father’s secretary, Auguste Levasseur. They visited Mount Vernon again and Georges got to meet Thomas Jefferson at Monticello. 1826, Lafayette and his son thought of America and sailed away towards home.
In 1832, Lafayette sent Georges back to La Grange to help Anastasie and Virginie cope with the needs of the family and the villagers,while he remained in Paris to help the government deal with the emergency. During the battle of the Bastille, Georges managed to hustle his father from the fighting and blood. After the death of his father, Georges Washington covered his father’s coffin with the dirt they gathered at bunker hill.
Georges Washington de Lafayette had five children total with his wife, Emilie de Tracy:
Oscar Thomas Gilbert Motier de Lafayette (1815–1881) was educated at the École Polytechnique and served as an artillery officer in Algeria. He entered the Chamber of Deputies in 1846 and voted with the extreme Left. After the revolution of 1848, he received a post in the provisional government; as a member of the Constituent Assembly, he became secretary of the war committee. After the dissolution of the Legislative Assembly in 1851, he retired from public life, but emerged on the establishment of the third republic, becoming a life senator in 1875.
Edmond Motier de Lafayette (1818–1890) shared his brother’s political opinions and was one of the secretaries of the Constituent Assembly and a member of the senate from 1876 to 1888.
Natalie de Lafayette who married Adolphe Périer, a banker and nephew of Casimir Pierre Périer.
Matilde de Lafayette who married Maurice de Pusy (1799–1864, son of Jean-Xavier Bureau de Pusy).
Clementine de Lafayette who married Gustave de Beaumont.
None can direct agnatic claim to the Lafayette name. It disappeared after Georges sons both died before having a male son. He spent the remaining years immediately following his father’s death organizing Lafayette’s letters, speeches and papers and compiling together his Memoires and more of his writing which was published in a six volumes in Paris in 1837-1838 he retained is seat in the Chamber of Deputies until the summer of 1849, remaining a loyal member of the ultra liberal minority his father had organized to oppose the restrictive dicta of King Louis Philippe. He lived to see the third French revolution of his life in 1848. 1848, Georges won reelection to his old seat in the Chamber of Deputies, but he failed to win the following year. He died in November 1849, never achieving the celebrity of his father.
I’ve been praying hard for the Spirit of God to show up in my life like He did on the day of Pentecost. I’m reading through Acts, and I’m so desperate for the days of the early Church to come again I don’t know what to do. So I’m writing this.
I was offered this amazing job and I meet with the company next week to talk about it, and I should be praying about that, getting my resume squared away, and prepping for the meeting. But all I can think about is preaching the Gospel. I want revival to break out everywhere, but especially here in New England, and I want to be smack in the middle of it. I want to preach the Gospel full time. I want to see the Spirit of God move in power; people healed, lives changed, souls saved, signs and wonders and all that. I don’t want anything else. Right now, I literally couldn’t care less about anything else.
After visiting Nesta the previous night, Cassian had flown
straight home and collapsed onto the silky red sheets of his king-sized bed,
clutching his pillow like a life-raft.
Although he dozed off half a dozen times, his vivid dreams were tormented
by a series of scenes – the King of Hybern smiling viciously, soldiers
vanishing from the field as the Cauldron’s power swept over the earth, Nesta
screaming his name, the King of Hybern snapping his wings, the King of Hybern
killing him, the King of Hybern killing Nesta…
Cassian resisted. He fought, even though what he saw in his
mind’s eye wasn’t real; his reality and fears clashed and manifested into his
worst nightmares. He felt sluggish, there were rocks tied to his limbs and he
was sinking deeper into the water, into the unknown abyss…
Still, he struggled. I’ll
kill you… Don’t you dare touch her, don’t you dare…
Cassian’s hands wrapped around the King of Hybern’s neck, he
could see the obsidian eyes and the gleaming teeth right in front of him. There
was nothing else but inky black all around him.
And then… Nesta’s face. Nesta’s beautiful face replaced the
king’s, and instead of the mask of laughing cruelty, there was only fear laid
And Cassian’s hands were still around that neck, that slender
and pale neck… which had turned cold, beneath his fingers.
Nesta’s lifeless body lay beneath him, lacerations and bruises
across her arms…
What… have I done…?
Slain soldiers lay in beds of their own making; vivid pools of
red stained the ground and ran in rivers through the bloodstained fields
There was only blood. Cauldron save him, there was so much
blood, and he couldn’t stop the bleeding…
The red sheets around him were blood, and he was drowning. Drowning,
Cassian bolted upright, face and torso covered in a sheen of
sweat and chest heaving as his heart hammered in his rib cage… His eyes adjusted
to the darkness, and he took in the familiar surroundings of his room, inhaling
the familiar scents of the townhouse…
Cassian closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He
couldn’t look down at that sea of redness, at his trembling hands, or he would
vomit right then and there.
Just a dream… he reassured himself, still breathing fast, just a nightmare…
He lay back down to relax and stared up at the ceiling, letting
his imagination form the swirls and whorls into shapes and creatures.
But exhaustion soon dragged him halfway under again, somewhere
between the realms of wakefulness and sleep…
Occasionally, he swore he could hear Azriel, the Shadowsinger,
whispering in his ear, Wake up, Cassian…
He could see the Illyrian crouched down next to him, a look of
worry on his face.
Wake up, Cass…
He couldn’t move his mouth to answer, couldn’t do anything
except lie there paralyzed… And when he finally wrested control of his muscles
from his unconscious mind, he forced his eyes open to once again take in the
undisturbed appearance of his room.
There was no one by his side. There was no one in his room, but whenever
Cassian closed his eyes, he could hear voices and see forms while he lingered in
Cassian finally caught a few, precious hours of dreamless sleep just
before dawn broke.
After his alarm rang at 6AM, he languished in the silken sheets
of his bed longer than usual. The townhouse was near silent, save for the
chirping of birds outside his windows and the faint-but-growing bustle in the
city a few blocks away.
Usually, he woke to the smell of brewing coffee but today there
was no familiar smell of cacao beans. From that, he inferred that Azriel had
both ate out and slept out, which was
rare. Unless he had somehow missed hearing Azriel come home; after all, the
Shadowsinger could easily mask his presence if he wanted.
While Cassian and Az often went out to bars in the city
together, they rarely slept over at a sexual partner’s place to avoid forming
any unnecessary attachments. Sex without emotions was just… easier. Less messy.
Before going home with women – or men – Cassian and Az would
make their terms clear from the start. Just sex, with no strings attached. And
if the individual wasn’t looking for a casual hookup, then they’d part ways, no
hard feelings. Nine times out of ten though, the individuals agreed to the
So… not coming home was very unusual for Azriel. Cassian made a
mental note to ask his brother what was going on at breakfast later this
Just as he suspected, Azriel was already at the House of Wind
when Cassian arrived. He was also surprised to see Nesta, already seated in her
usual seat at the dining table. He gave her a cursory nod but that was it; the
rejection from last night was still fresh in his mind, and the nightmares hadn’t
Perhaps Mor was wrong. Perhaps Nesta really did just need time
and space, like he had initially convinced himself.
Cassian poured himself a glass of orange juice, morosely hoping
it would jog his spirit or revive whatever was left of his soul. But the lack of
sleep was taking its toll so he poured himself a steaming cup of coffee as
well, mixing in just enough cream and sugar in to take the bitter edge off.
Nesta seemed to be waiting for him to speak to her, as were
Azriel and Mor, who were lounging casually by a column.
But Cassian turned his attention to Mor instead, giving her a
lazy grin. “So did you make it to Rita’s last night?”
Mor made an exasperated face at him but started telling them a
story about her night, while Azriel listened in the corner, weaving shadows
between his fingers. Cassian was only half-listening to her story, although he
vaguely felt like he had heard it before…
Nesta vanished shortly after Mor started chattering away,
probably retreating to the library.
Neither the Morrigan nor Azriel missed it when Cassian’s eyes
followed Nesta out of the room, looking… torn.
Before either of them could say anything, Cassian chucked his
head towards Az. “So… where were you last night?” Mor’s brown eyes
turned to Az’s face again, but her expression was unreadable.
Az smoothly replied, “Mor and I… had a long talk last
night.” Mor nodded, giving a somewhat shaky smile.
Cassian instinctively took a step closer to Mor. “How’d it
Az put his hands up, palms facing forward. “Relax, Cass… I
slept on the couch.”
Cassian’s shoulders relaxed a bit as he glanced between their
faces, but Mor didn’t refute anything Azriel said.
“Really, it’s fine, Cassian,” Mor said softly. “I
mean, it’ll take some time for… things to go back to the way they used to be,
and things may never be the same but…”
“‘The truth sets us free,’ remember?” Azriel quoted,
smirking at Cassian.
Cassian flushed slightly as he turned on Mor. “You told him
I said that?”
Mor pouted. “You flicked my nose!” Cassian rolled his
cut in. “So, what about you, brother? What are you going to do about
what are you going to do about Nesta?” Mor chimed in.
glared at both of them with annoyance, but he just sighed.
Maybe the situation could be remediated by adding a shot of
alcohol to his morning coffee.
“As a woman and as a seiyuu, I try to aim for a natural state of mind.”
—From here, I would like to begin to talk about personalities. How would you express yourself in a word?
R: Being extremely shy around strangers (smiles). While recording for the first time, I didn’t speak to anyone on the site at all. Sometime ago I had a job of dubbing for a film, and there I was finally able to talk to those around me at the celebratory dinner table. The sound director said, “That was the first time I’ve seen you laugh.” (laughs)
—That is fairly relatable, huh.
R: Obviously, “I would like to get along!” is what I say when I feel calm, as I wait for others to speak to me (laughs). Even when I first met the members of Aqours, I still wasn’t able to talk, but I was able to use Anchan (Inami Anju) to start conversations. But, in this situation, I never thought that she would be paying attention to me! Like, are you serious?! I was very surprised.
—But you seem to be more dignified during events and such…
R: It’s nice to stand in front of others, and it’s very fun, but I think that my personality is very troublesome (laughs).
—It must be very troublesome (laughs). How do you spend your days off?
R: I mainly go to sleep. When I’m on vacation I usually say, “First, let’s go to sleep!” (laughs)
—Do you like staying in your room?
R: Usually I do, but if there are movies that I like, then it is my priority to watch them. Recently when I went to the movies, I had watched something called “Memoirs of a Murderer.”
TN: A more direct translation would be, “22 Years of Confessions from a Murderer”
—What are your points on choosing movies?
R: I like mysteries. And probably detective ones. But if I were to pick, I would choose Japanese films. Of course, I like foreign films a lot, since they help me study the expressions made by dubbing.
—When you watch foreign movies, are they subtitled or dub translations?
R: When I was living in America, sometimes I was able to see subtitles as well, but occasionally there were times where the subtitles and dialogue were completely different. Because of this I don’t actually listen to the English audio, rather I focus on the subtitles which leads me to sometimes being unable to concentrate on the movie (laughs).
—Really, the English-language does have some unique problems (laughs). By the way, do you usually enjoy reading?
R: There are many mystery books to choose from after all, and Isaka Kotaro-san writes them as well. I liked the book "Fish Story”. But the best one was “Golden Slumber”. To this day it has been stamped with, “The Greatest Story to be Ever Told,“ which still makes me cry. I think those who’ve read it would understand (laughs). Also, I’ve recently read "Gukouroku,” by Tokurô Nukui-san. I read up to half of it and left it in the hotel at Los Angeles, USA where I performed. I was very curious at the start of the story, but now I would feel regret if I bought it again. My heart feels conflicted (laughs).
Note: Isaka Kotaro is an author specialized in writing mystery novels that have won many awards, such as the “57th Mystery Writers of Japan Award”.
—(Laughs) Who is your ideal male?
R: It’s Sakai Masato-san! I love his acting and I’ve almost seen every movie and drama he’s appeared in.
—Again, you have black hair.
R: Yes. Of course, any color is fine as long as it suits the person. But because my eyes are facing towards the direction of the arriving atmosphere, I guess black hair is the best after all.
—I see, is there someone you respect…?
R: It’s Kitamura Eri-san. It was almost at the same time that the anime “Angel Beats!” and “HIGHSCHOOL OF THE DEAD” aired in which she starred in, she played a completely different role in each work. Her multifaceted performance ability is, “Ah, so powerful!” I came to the conclusion that although she may be arrogant, her voice is pleasant, not only as a seiyuu but as an artist as well, as she has her own unique view of the world. I am really looking forward to what she does in her own path as I keep moving forward as well.
Note: According to the Seiyuu Bible GK Interview she has said that seiyuu Kitamura Eri had influenced her the most.
—Aida-san, have you ever thought about the roles you would want take?
R: In addition to anime, when acting in movies and dramas, they always have some kind of attracting role. Therefore, I would like to take on the role of a villain that could be really impactful. I want others to think, “That person is really annoying!” (laughs). Also for the work that changed my life, I would like to work with comedies like “Gintama”, as it is one of my goals to make others laugh.
—It has been 3 years since you became a seiyuu. Have you noticed any changes in yourself?
R: Regarding my expressions, I don’t have a high voice nor the voice for an anime. In that sense, I am different because I can have my own way of performance that is different than others. Besides, even from the work on stage I’ve done before, and even from the anime staff, I’m often praised with, “Being natural is a great feeling.” However, since I feel that I shouldn’t need to divide my voice, I’d like to express my roles as naturally as possible. It is important to express the heart with true feelings. So I would like to cherish it and leave it unchanged.
—Also, this magazine was released the day after your birthday August 8th. Speaking of which, what are some childhood memories of your birthday?
R: Ah… Since it is during summer vacation, none of my classmates celebrated with me, which was strange (laughs). To be honest, this isn’t a good memory (smiles).
—To revive your spirit (laughs), finally please talk about next year’s ambitions.
R: I would like to face various challenges, whilst being natural at it at the same time. As a woman and as a seiyuu, I would like to aim for a natural state of mind!