woodland castle

Hiraeth Creature #655 - Frinnamowa

“Hiraeth’s complex underground realm, referred to as the Undercroft, tunnels its veins across the world. Explorers of these vast caverns find many forgotten dungeons and forests growing from the substratum. With woodlands, castles, valleys, and ridges accounted for in the Undercroft, its not a surprise they also have complex waterways and rivers. Some explorers talk of a vast chamber in the west, where the Earthen Maiden granted space for Tethys to flow, and created a huge subterranean bay that connects to many caves around it. A beast found in the coastal hollow is the Frinnamowa, who venture out to the abyssal waters to feed, and return to rest in crystal-lit forests. Timid pups are born in neighbouring grottoes, and over time they grow into bulky beasts with an array of fins.

While their size can be intimidating next to the average explorer, what can really catch onlookers off guard are their massive eyes, which seem to stare mindlessly forward. While the waters they swim in grow gloomy and dark, their eyes pierce through shadows and can be seen from the surface. Other than letting them see clearly in all conditions, it is also a warning to predators. The secret weapon of the Frinnamowa are their yellow fins, which can channel electricity, letting them shock any unwanted guests who come too close or fire bolts at sea monsters lying in wait. Despite this deadly edge, Frinnamowa are more curious of explorers than anything, and often greet them with sniffing and licking before waddling away. Near their resting groves there are scraps of fin that shed after confrontations in the sea– it is believed these lost fins still conduct with some energy, and could be used to make deadly weapons and alchemic experiments, but so few travellers make it to the Undercroft coast that it has been rarely tested. ”


This morning I stepped into the realm of the fairies. Ice was melting off the trees and the fog was rolling in. 

All photos mine.


it’s my last night here in germany and that’s bittersweet. I had an amazing adventure and it definitely did help me sort some shit out. I’m going to miss the rolling hills of the countryside, walking around the cobblestone streets of old towns, exploring ancient ruins during sunset, and of course I’ll miss my wonderful best friend. I’m happy to go home though, I think it’s been long enough. I miss my cat and my family and the friends I have at home. I miss my evergreen forests and the pouring rain. I miss my beautiful west coast island 🍁
thank you for having me, germany. I’ll be back soon enough. and now here’s to new adventures & self growth 🙌🏻

A guide to being an apathetic Byronic aristocrat vampire in the 21st century
  • If the sun is up return to bed and wait until nighttime. There are not enough hours in the night to spend them sleeping. Once it is dark you can be all Dante Rossetti about it and stroll about some darkened woodland or else lay amongst Chinese patterned pillows in the nude reading Marcel Proust. 
  • In fact do a great many things naked. Or if you insist do them naked under a silk robe which trails after you as you stalk the halls of your estate.
  • And since everyone is fated to die anyway smoke cigarettes while you can. Be blasé about death in general. Or lament it constantly – incessantly – until all who know you associate it with your presence. That is what being a Romantic is all about.
  • And in the spirit of Byron take such bad care of yourself – by eating badly and drinking copiously – that you might at any moment pass into that lamented great beyond. The best ways to die are in a battle or in a Revolution as well as from sloth – simply laying about wasting away transfixed by a beautiful painting or the memory of a lost lover – or finally simply succumbing to an illness procured from exposure to the harsh elements of nature. The last is the most probable since you will often find yourself standing on mountaintops above mist-laden seascapes shouting Nietzschean quotes into the frosty air and heralding your own impending doom in the process.
  • Read many books. Watch Orlando by Sally Potter for immortal style tips.
  • Become a sensual creature (as opposed to a sexually satisfied one) so that you may either conquer a harmen of lovers wherein you can loose yourself for hours on end in a kind of Delta of Venus scenario or else live as an Dionysian hermit finding solace entirely in literature, flowers and moonlight.
  • Be not strictly woman or man but rather an amalgamation of femininity and masculinity. Embrace bisexuality. 
  • Keep strange pets. Anything besides a dog or cat or gerbil. Or if you must have a dog then choose a Borzoi or Wolf Hound. And if you must procure a cat then name it Lassitude or Nothing as Jean Paul Sartre did. Raise peacocks and keep a menagerie of exotic fauna and flora in an otherwise overgrown rose garden.  
  • Half of what you say ought to be a quote by John Milton, Dante Alighieri, William Shakespeare or Oscar Wilde. Either that or nothing. If you are not reciting – either the work of others or your own – then be quiet. Observe and consider, but rarely speak.
  • Drink red wine. And white wine. And champagne. Do not however drink vodka unless you find yourself in the Russian Winter Palace filial roaming pale and crazy-eyed down halls with a fur coat whipping behind you and a novel by Tolstoy in your pocket. 
  • Life is a feast. Eat oysters for breakfast and decorate your dinner table – and the food itself – with flowers. Hannibal is the go to cooking program for culinary flair.
  • In fact Hannibal ought to be the only tv show you watch besides Penny Dreadful. 
  • Wear chokers. All your jewelry ought to be heirlooms. 
  • Keep a much younger lover – if you are a woman – or a much older one – if you are a man – and have them rip the choker from your pale neck as you fall together in a passionate throw onto a 17th century ottoman.
  • Dress in shrouds of velvet and silk. 
  • Stay out of the sun.
  • A moushe – a painted-on beauty mark – is entirely appropriate, as is a Jacobin ruff.
  • From now on sex shall be referred to as Making Cattleya.
  • Appropriate venues for socializing are cafés which do not play music or serve cappuccinos, theaters built before 1960 and opera houses not built after 1930. Jazz clubs which refrain from fusion or acid. Libraries and old cinemas in general. Family estates and parental mansions, abandoned houses in the country side, churches and cemeteries, woodland openings and castle lawns, museums and – of course – small apartments where you can sit on the floor smoke cigarettes and discuss the collective sense of ennui you share with your friends.
  • Inappropriate venues are shopping malls, franchise coffee shops and anywhere where reading a novel or smoking might seem out of place. In fact stay clear of any place built after 1980. Avoid food courts, gyms, sports or hotel bars and clubs with more than one dance floor as the plague.
  • Refer to your circle of friends as your Family. Be religiously devote and romantically involved with them. When it comes to your actually family a cool somewhat distanced relationship is the most appropriate. Or if so inclined consider a more obsessive cloistering constellation that will inevitably lead to rumors of past inbreeding – the French aristocratic kind – and scandal. Refer to your parents by their first name or not at all and thus have them remain an elusive periphery to your life. 
  • Instead declare Richard Wagner as your emergency contact.
  • Descend stairwells slowly.
  • Express yourself through Greek axioms and lyrical poetry or lingering secretive stares. Consider perfume as a means of communication. 
  • Remember that the only respectable means of transport are the Oriental Express, steamships across the Atlantic or long boats along the Nile. You may also travel by foot if you do so in a languid fashion. As far as tourism goes the primary vehicle of experience ought to be stargazing and kissing. 
  • Consider yourself eternal
  • And eternity meaningless. 
Bon Voyage (A Beauty and the Beast  one shot FanFiction)

So…I noticed @inventor-belle​ mentioned an interest in a fanfic of one of my Beauty and the Beast head canon posts the other day… so I wrote one. Because I am shamelessly that far gone into my batb fangirling that that is all it takes… Enjoy!

SummaryPère Robert visits the castle library.

Word count  – 2202

A/N – This is my first time posting a fanfic. I’m not sure what the standard acceptable posting format is exactly… I tried… I also borrowed the pictures from other posts somewhere on tumblr. I don’t remember which blogs exactly otherwise I’d give credit where credit is due… Again. New to this…Sorry. Anyways! Happy reading…

     It was a bright and beautiful summer’s day as Père Robert rode along the narrow woodland path to the castle. The quiet of the forest a welcome change from the chatter of the village; the distant melodies of songbirds and the muffled clops of his horse’s hooves against the damp earth the only sounds amongst the silent trees. He sighed happily, taking it in. It had been nearly a fortnight since the curse had been broken. The village was alive with a commotion like none he had ever seen there before. It was as if they had all just awoken from a hazy dream. There was a renewed fervor in their hearts that they applied to everything. Their day to day tasks. Their gossiping. Confession… With the restoration of their memories, Père Robert had had more people come to confession in one week than he had in his entire time in the priesthood. Just the thought of it gave him a headache. But today was to be a respite from his clerical duties. A day of fellowship with a dear friend. Père Robert had missed his talks with Belle dreadfully in the passing weeks. No one in the village could hold a candle to her insightful conversation. When her invitation to visit the castle arrived on his doorstep, it was like a gift sent from Heaven.

   As he rode into the castle courtyard, Père Robert marveled at the splendor that had been tucked away in the forest unseen for so long. He dismounted and led his horse to the stable.

“Thank you, Pierre.” He said, patting the gentle steed’s neck. Making his way up the shining marble stairs to the palace, Père Robert could not help but feel a tad underdressed. True, all of his clothing was modest. But perhaps he should have taken the time to shine his shoes…

Père Robert tried to put these thoughts aside as the castle door opened for him.

“Bonjour!” He said cheerfully to the lanky footman who ushered him in. “I’ve come to call on—oh, thank you.” The footman wordlessly began to take his coat and hat from him. “I’ve come to pay a visit to Belle… would you be so kind as to direct me…”

The footman smiled and gestured for Père Robert to turn. Just that moment, Belle was making her way into the foyer. She looked up from the book she held, a smile blooming across her face as she saw him.

”Père Robert!” She cried, rushing to greet him. “Oh, I am so glad you came.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. The village is not the same without you.”

“Oh I sincerely doubt that.” She laughed. “How is everyone?”

“In a word…chatty. But we can discuss that later. Would you be so kind as to give me a tour?” Père inquired.

“A tour! Yes. Of course. Please follow me. Thank you, Chapeau. That should be all for the day. I know your violin must be calling you.” She added, turning to the silent footman. He gave her a nod of thanks and quickly turned, making his leave.

“So what do you think?” She asked, gesturing to the spacious foyer as she led the way up a grand staircase.

“I do believe I have seen cathedrals that would be considered shabby in comparison.” Père laughed.

“It is a bit grand, isn’t it?” She agreed. “You’d be amazed at how quickly it has felt like home. Mostly because of the people here. They’ve all been so kind to me.”

“Yes, I suppose they would be. I’m sure they are incredibly grateful to you. You’ve become a heroine in your own right.”

“Strange isn’t it?” She wondered.

“Oh not entirely.” Père Robert mused. “I always knew you had it in you. It was only a matter of time until you found yourself in the midst of some grand adventure.”

She let out a laugh and shook her head. As they reached a new corridor she paused, thinking. She gave a tiny whistle and made a small upward gesture with her hand, as if rebuilding something in her mind.

“This way.” She pointed, continuing on the tour. Noticing an inquisitive head tilt from Père Robert she explained “The castle sort of rebuilt itself after the curse was broken. I’m still learning the layout now that there are fewer obstacles to maneuver around.”

Père Robert nodded as if he understood. Never did he imagine that he would be casually discussing curses and enchanted self-repairing castles. Then again, there were biblical accounts of things equally as miraculous. It was probably best to not try to wrap his mind around the theological implications of it all just yet.

They made their way through the castle, past rows of shining suits of armor and grand portraits by the old artistic masters. Belle showed him the views of the gardens and the hint of the village rooftops in the distance from one of the tower balconies. She twirled about the ballroom, introducing him to a few members of the bustling staff making final preparations for the grand celebration to come in the next few days. Finally, as they reached the end of a long hallway, she stopped before the large double doors, her eyes alight with excitement.

This is by far my favorite place in the entire castle. It is part of why I invited you here… Are you ready?”

Père Robert nodded. Belle turned and thrust the doors open in front of her, revealing the most stunning array of books Père Robert had ever seen in his life.

“Isn’t it wonderful?!” She beamed

Père Robert stared in awe at the towering walls of books around him. The sun shown on the gilded spines of countless volumes. He timidly removed one from its shelf and flipped through its pages, breathing in the scent of old paper.

“It’s magnificent!” he breathed. “I think I might cry…”

“Do you want to know the best part?” she asked as he returned the book to its proper place. “It’s mine!”

“It’s yours…”He repeated. She nodded giddily.

“All of it?!” He exclaimed. She nodded again, her smile stretching into a grin that threatened to take over her whole face.

In a fit of excitement, Père Robert took her hands in his and began to jump up and down, the two of them laughing like school children.

Once they were finally able to control their gleeful giggles Belle said “I do hope that you will help yourself to any of the books you like here. It is the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”

She looked him in the eye until he knew there was no use making any modest protests.

“Very well! I can see there is no use arguing. Thank you, Belle.” He chuckled in resignation. “Now… Let’s have a look around this library of yours!”

As they explored the library they came across a man who Père Robert assumed could only be the prince himself. He was dressed casually enough, but there was an elegance about him that betrayed his nobility. The man looked up from his book and smiled.

“Belle, my darling! I wondered where you’d run off to.” He said, planting a swift kiss on her cheek.

Belle wove her hand into his. “Adam, I’d like you to meet my dearest friend from my days in the village, Père Robert. Père Robert, this is Prince Adam.” She said, a hint of seriousness in her voice.

He turned to her, a small smirk creeping across his face. “This is the man who lent you Romeo and Juliet?”

Before Belle could make a retort, the Prince took Père Robert’s hand into a firm handshake and with the deepest sincerity said “My good man, I cannot begin to express my gratitude for the friendship you have shown to my Belle. It is an honor to meet you. Please know that you will always be welcome here. Any friend of Belle’s is a friend of mine.”

“The honor is mine your highness.” Père Robert replied, touched by the gratitude in Adam’s voice.

“Belle my dearest, might I be so bold as to make a personal selection of a few books for our dear friend?” He inquired, cordially “That is, of course, if you would like Père Robert.”

“By all means.” Père Robert replied.

Belle smiled up at her prince as he kissed her hand and departed to another section of the library to make his selection.

“His highness appears to be quite taken with you” Père Robert observed. “Is there a wedding I am to officiate in our future?”

Belle wrinkled her nose at his teasing. “Oh please! One celebration at a time… Did I mention that I’ve been considering starting a school program for the village?”

“Yes, I believe you mentioned the idea in your letter.”


“I think it’s an ingenious plan. Sure, you might have a little resistance from the village schoolmaster at first but I will see to it that all of the children are provided proper transportation to the castle.” Père Robert reassured.

“Thank you. I feel like I will need all the help I can get.” Belle replied apprehensively

“I have every confidence in your abilities. You might even consider opening a class to the adults of the village.” Père Robert suggested.

“You think they would come?” Belle asked, doubtfully.

“Perhaps not all at once. But I suspect there are a select few that would be enticed by the opportunity. I’ll make a few inquiries.”

Belle nodded, considering the idea as she examined the bookshelf in front of her.

“So where are you off to next?” Père Robert asked

“I can’t decide.” Belle sighed, climbing one of the bookshelf ladders, pushing off and sliding wistfully. “There are so many options now.”

“The hardships of having an entire world of books at your fingertips.” Père Robert teased.

“What do you think, Plumette?” Belle asked, looking up at the young maiden dusting the higher shelves of a nearby bookcase. “See anything promising up there?”

“Hmmm….”Plumette hummed thoughtfully, resting her feather duster on her hip. “What about this one?”

She descended lightly and handed the novel to Belle.

“’Love in Excess by Eliza Haywood’” Belle read aloud.

“Eliza Haywood!” Père Robert repeated intrigued. “I’ve heard a few accounts of her. All incredibly conflicting. I’d be interested in giving some of her writings a try.”

“I hear it is very romantic.” Plumette giggled, playing with her feather duster.

“Are there any more copies?” Père Robert asked.

Plumette danced up the ladder to check. “Oui! There are several.” She gently dropped two more copies down to Père Robert before floating down the ladder herself.

“Perhaps we should all read it then.”  Père Robert suggested.

“Like a club!” Plumette said with delight.

“A book club! What a wonderful idea!” Belle mused, excitedly.

“What’s a wonderful idea, my love?” Adam asked, returning carrying a large stack of books.

“We’re starting a book club!” Belle replied.

Adam set his stack of books on the table and looked at the novel in Belle’s hand. “You’ll have to count me out on this one. Count D’Elmont’s character arch is a bit too close to home for me just yet. Let me know when you’ve chosen your next book. Might I suggest something Shakespeare? I’d love to get your opinions on Hamlet.”

“You’ve read “Love in Excess”?” Belle asked incredulously.

“No!” Adam retorted defensively. “I…I believe I overheard Lumière discussing it once…A while ago… I may have skimmed it. I prefer the title “The Fatal Enquiry.” It sounds much more eloquent.”

“Because it sounds more dramatic, more like.” Belle teased.

Adam rolled his eyes in mock offense, wrapping his arm around Belle’s shoulders and pulling her a little closer.

“Are all of those books for me?” Père Robert asked, examining the large tower of books on the table.

“Yes! Belle mentioned her love of Romeo and Juliet. I assumed that you must not have many volumes of Shakespeare in your collection so I took it upon myself to collect the rest of his plays and some of his poetry for you. Do you speak Greek, by any chance?” Adam replied, joining Père Robert at the table.

“I’m more fluent in Latin, but I studied a little Greek while I was at seminary…”

“Excellent!” Adam exclaimed. “I’ve been wanting to read The Iliad in its original text for some time now.”

“I’m afraid I am rather rusty” Père Robert warned.

“Nonsense. I’m a quick study. I’m sure we can figure it out between the two of us.” Adam waved a hand dismissively at Père Robert’s insecurity and opened the large volume on the top of the stack.

“Oh, you meant right now?” Père Robert asked.

Adam looked up from the book, realizing his enthusiasm may have gotten the better of his manners.

“Is that alright?”

Père Robert looked over at Belle who was doing her best to stifle a laugh.


As the two men sat down and began to pour over the dusty poem, Belle smiled to herself watching as the two began their attempt at translating, an unlikely friendship already beginning to blossom.