Guest Post: The Witch I Knew: Chapter 2
**Hey guys, and welcome back! Here is Chapter 2 of The Witch I Knew. **
DAY DRINKING
The day of arrived and I hadn’t heard from her yet. “Typical”, I thought, to
which my phone responded, almost with an air of annoyance of the fact I would
think that, by chiming in with a text message. T’was her, simply stating that shed be
there that day and that she was excited to hang out. “bloody brilliant” I responded.
My messages were short and sweet that day because a friend of mine was visiting
from out of town and we were meeting another of my friends at her house to pick
her up for the faire that day. My friend (who’ll be referred to as Widgen, her cat, also
affectionately referred to as her tiny crack-head) was visiting from out of town and
was on a road trip of her own and had stopped in my town to take part in my
hospitality for a grand few days. Widgen, like Lilith, was average height by my
standards with dirty blonde hair that was a mix of wavy and curly that danced in
sunlight. I’d always thought she had a child’s eyes, always seemingly innocent with
an air of playfulness and always lit up at the sight of friends and musicians. There
was a touch of prankish behavior lurking in those eyes that, without the innocence
that was there, could be described as gnomish. However with everything in those
eyes they ended up being the eyes that you’d find on a fairy.
*writers note: I surround myself with women most of the time because I feel most
comfortable around them. I know how to make them laugh most of the time, I
generally enjoy their company and I enjoy having my company enjoyed. Sometimes
that can become difficult for other women who want to pursue me because, around
multiple women, I can close off and shut out the feelings of desire and love.
The road trip to the outskirts of the city, near which my friend lived (later
referred to as Taffeta: her dog, that has arguably more energy than herself) went off
swimmingly. The fuzz tailed us for a bit (we were speeding horribly) but he didn’t
turn his lights on so.. no harm, no foul. We picked up Taffeta (whom, admittedly, I
was pursuing for a bit but that fizzled some time after this story. Wasn’t meant to be.
Taffeta was of medium height, blonde hair, a slight build, but with more energy in
her on that particular day than a child who’s just been given coffee ice cream. She
was a crafty one as well because between the time we got there and the time we left
(about ten minutes) she’d mentioned she needed a pouch to wear on her belt for the
day, stripped some textile, and sewed one from scratch on the spot leaving me
dumbfounded. We made our way to the faire and the excitement I always get from
going to the faire started to build. We parked, my two friends and I, and got out of
the car. After Widgen donned her last bits of garb, Taffeta already being dressed,
and I donned my entire outfit, (as it’s very large and cumbersome) we made our way
to the front gate.
*writer’s note: my garb at renaissance faires makes me very high profile. I’m
approached by lots of parents of kids to take take photos with them and drunks (my
people) to take fun selfies. Being this high profile requires a lot of patience on the
part of whoever goes with me to which I’m eternally grateful and should probably
tell them more often. The only reasons I do it are because yes, I like attention, but I
also the amount of kids that come up to me saying I’m their favourite hero is
wonderful and the reverence from the parents saying I made their kids day is
priceless and precious to me.
Meeting Lilith (or meeting anyone really) outside of the setting of work, of a
place where I’m required to be joyful and happy all the time, is, and was, refreshing.
Always is. After a brief introduction period between Widgen, Lilith, and Taffeta, we
paid for our tickets and entered the faire. What ensued was one of the most relaxing
days I’ve had since moving to the South to date. Before we did anything, contrary to
my normal first task at faire, was some window-shopping. I usually beeline to the
bar, the most important stand to me at any renaissance faire, but I was in the
company of three beautiful women and I defer to women most times. During our
window-shopping spree we went by a few stores, saw some interesting pieces, both
complimented and received compliments on the colourful and outstanding outfits
walking around, Widgen purchased a few items, eventually making our way to the
closest dispenser of drink. Taffeta bought me my first drink for which, if anyone
does that, I am and was eternally grateful. As we made our through the crowds and
we stopped to oblige a passing family with a picture, Lilith suggested the Tea Room.
It was unanimous and I was excited.
*writer’s note: I love tea. I love coffee as well and I have it more often but tea, to me,
is like the friend you haven’t seen in a long time but you’re able to pick up with them
right where you left off, but your particular relationship requires you provide ample
time to enjoy their company, usually in a one-on- one setting or with very good
friends. Coffee is something akin to your work friend or roommate that never shuts
up, it’s really there when you need it, definitely gets you up in the morning,
sometimes won’t allow you to sleep, and it pairs wonderfully with whiskey.. or
apparently peach moonshine.
P.S. I’m talking about HOT tea. Iced tea is like the person you meet that almost
certainly would be better off dumped down the toilet.
We got to the Tea Room an we waited in the queue and eventually got our
party called by the pet name of course that friends have for me and which the girls
so humorously gave to the hostess. We came up to the hostess to have ourselves
taken to our seats and the hostess politely giggled and graciously swooned to which
I bowed. When we walked in, heads turned and in my wake followed the familiar
whisperings of the name of my persona to which I silently chortled. (I love that
word) We took our seats and soon the waitress came up to us and, after a short
deliberation, we made our choices and ordered. What followed was the most
surreal, personally amusing, and enjoyable time of the day. I was at “Teatime”. “With
the ladies”. We enjoyed and shared our tea and passed around bite-sized morsels
with which to pair it and indulged in succulent conversation. Every time I chimed in
remarking on something someone said, I was overturned by sheer volume and
feminine force of will. I loved that feeling. Women, mostly, have been such a positive
force in my life I can’t help but feel joy when they’re having a good time. I was in
heaven. The only thing I enjoy more than spending time with my friends is seeing
my friends enjoy themselves. I snapped a quick picture of my friends, an eye-
blinking squint into the pleasure I had of their company, and continued reveling in
the moment.
Soon after facing the sweet indulgent of conversation and different strains of
tea leaves we were approached by the shop owner, an incredibly pleasant man with
a slight jaunt to his walk, graying hair is some parts, silver in others, and a jovial,
grandfatherly smile. He expressed the hope that we were enjoying ourselves in the
form of a query and, shoving our pinkies haughtily in the air, we remarked that it
was the finest cuisine we’d ever had the pleasure of partaking in. The owner then
remarked on my costume and wondered if he could have a few pictures taken to
post on the interwebs to which I responded graciously. He remarked, playfully,
gesturing to my outfit that having a God step down from on high to grace his
establishment was the highlight of his day and he wanted to use the photos to
market a bit. We posed, we talked, I drank, all the while his friend snapping pictures
that later turned on up my feed in the Book of Faces (they were quite fun photos
too).
After our succulent swaray at the Tea Room the only thing that followed that
was as enjoyable was at the end of the day. A great deal of drinking (on my part) and
a great deal of walking (on all our parts) and a great deal of patience (on the girls
parts) throughout the day led us to the gates as the faire was entering its twilight
hours for the day. Just inside the foyer of the castle gates were benches arranged in
a circle of sorts. On these sat all manner of tourists and rennies, (avid ren faire
goers, for all you non-rennies) and in the middle of the circle was a man, clearly
enjoying himself, leading a drumming circle. I. Love drums. I don’t care who you are;
thirty people gathered in a circle banging on drums awakens something inside
everyone. Something that speaks to us from an age that we knew once long ago but
has yet seemed to drift from us in the tide of change. Yet when I hear drums, I can
still hear my ancestors beating hearts across that sea and it calms and impassions
me.
The drumming continued, he asked everyone to pick a beat and got others in
the group to create a complimentary rhythm. Eventually he got people up to dance
and there was a massive pile of people shaking tail and whipping hair (in a very
conservative manner though, this was the South for God’s sake.. ah shit.. lords name
in vain..). Widgen readily joined in the dance while Taffeta happily stayed seated
nursing the established rhythm on the drum that she’d received from someone else
leaving the circle while Lilith celebrated her time by staying partially hidden in the
crowd. (The birthday girl, and she’ll admit this herself, is somewhat shy, not
seemingly prone to compulsive acts of wild extroversion.) The dance and drumming
eventually ended and the cannon, signaling the end of the faire, sounded and we
reluctantly, but not without contentment, made our way through the portcullis. We
said our goodbyes wishing each person well, especially Lilith who had made fast
friends with my fairy-eyed friend who had come down to visit. We got in the car and
made our way back to drop off Taffeta in the outskirts of the city at her home and
my roaming friend and I made our way back to my abode. We rested for the night,
talking long into the night, drinking, showing each other new music, watched a
Disney movie, and eventually said our goodnights. Widgen stayed visiting for a few
days following, exploring the town at her leisure, coming by my place of work to
visit, and relaxing before continuing on her journey. It all felt very old-world, having
a friend you hadn’t seen in a while come visit, breaking bread and sharing drink. I
enjoyed that feeling immensely. (Not many people come to visit me, it’s usually I
who travel to visit them, so having a friend visit is and was a treat sweeter than
wine.)
I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Lilith since that day of the faire (I hope I don’t
see hide of any of my friends. That would indicate they’re perhaps more animal than
human which, actually at second thought, might indicate them being a lycanthrope
of sorts and I would be excited about.) In any case I hadn’t seen nor heard from her
until the day after I said my farewell to my fairy-eyed friend.
DAY DRINKING
The day of arrived and I hadn’t heard from her yet. “Typical”, I thought, to
which my phone responded, almost with an air of annoyance of the fact I would
think that, by chiming in with a text message. T’was her, simply stating that shed be
there that day and that she was excited to hang out. “bloody brilliant” I responded.
My messages were short and sweet that day because a friend of mine was visiting
from out of town and we were meeting another of my friends at her house to pick
her up for the faire that day. My friend (who’ll be referred to as Widgen, her cat, also
affectionately referred to as her tiny crack-head) was visiting from out of town and
was on a road trip of her own and had stopped in my town to take part in my
hospitality for a grand few days. Widgen, like Lilith, was average height by my
standards with dirty blonde hair that was a mix of wavy and curly that danced in
sunlight. I’d always thought she had a child’s eyes, always seemingly innocent with
an air of playfulness and always lit up at the sight of friends and musicians. There
was a touch of prankish behavior lurking in those eyes that, without the innocence
that was there, could be described as gnomish. However with everything in those
eyes they ended up being the eyes that you’d find on a fairy.
*writers note: I surround myself with women most of the time because I feel most
comfortable around them. I know how to make them laugh most of the time, I
generally enjoy their company and I enjoy having my company enjoyed. Sometimes
that can become difficult for other women who want to pursue me because, around
multiple women, I can close off and shut out the feelings of desire and love.
The road trip to the outskirts of the city, near which my friend lived (later
referred to as Taffeta: her dog, that has arguably more energy than herself) went off
swimmingly. The fuzz tailed us for a bit (we were speeding horribly) but he didn’t
turn his lights on so.. no harm, no foul. We picked up Taffeta (whom, admittedly, I
was pursuing for a bit but that fizzled some time after this story. Wasn’t meant to be.
Taffeta was of medium height, blonde hair, a slight build, but with more energy in
her on that particular day than a child who’s just been given coffee ice cream. She
was a crafty one as well because between the time we got there and the time we left
(about ten minutes) she’d mentioned she needed a pouch to wear on her belt for the
day, stripped some textile, and sewed one from scratch on the spot leaving me
dumbfounded. We made our way to the faire and the excitement I always get from
going to the faire started to build. We parked, my two friends and I, and got out of
the car. After Widgen donned her last bits of garb, Taffeta already being dressed,
and I donned my entire outfit, (as it’s very large and cumbersome) we made our way
to the front gate.
*writer’s note: my garb at renaissance faires makes me very high profile. I’m
approached by lots of parents of kids to take take photos with them and drunks (my
people) to take fun selfies. Being this high profile requires a lot of patience on the
part of whoever goes with me to which I’m eternally grateful and should probably
tell them more often. The only reasons I do it are because yes, I like attention, but I
also the amount of kids that come up to me saying I’m their favourite hero is
wonderful and the reverence from the parents saying I made their kids day is
priceless and precious to me.
Meeting Lilith (or meeting anyone really) outside of the setting of work, of a
place where I’m required to be joyful and happy all the time, is, and was, refreshing.
Always is. After a brief introduction period between Widgen, Lilith, and Taffeta, we
paid for our tickets and entered the faire. What ensued was one of the most relaxing
days I’ve had since moving to the South to date. Before we did anything, contrary to
my normal first task at faire, was some window-shopping. I usually beeline to the
bar, the most important stand to me at any renaissance faire, but I was in the
company of three beautiful women and I defer to women most times. During our
window-shopping spree we went by a few stores, saw some interesting pieces, both
complimented and received compliments on the colourful and outstanding outfits
walking around, Widgen purchased a few items, eventually making our way to the
closest dispenser of drink. Taffeta bought me my first drink for which, if anyone
does that, I am and was eternally grateful. As we made our through the crowds and
we stopped to oblige a passing family with a picture, Lilith suggested the Tea Room.
It was unanimous and I was excited.
*writer’s note: I love tea. I love coffee as well and I have it more often but tea, to me,
is like the friend you haven’t seen in a long time but you’re able to pick up with them
right where you left off, but your particular relationship requires you provide ample
time to enjoy their company, usually in a one-on- one setting or with very good
friends. Coffee is something akin to your work friend or roommate that never shuts
up, it’s really there when you need it, definitely gets you up in the morning,
sometimes won’t allow you to sleep, and it pairs wonderfully with whiskey.. or
apparently peach moonshine.
P.S. I’m talking about HOT tea. Iced tea is like the person you meet that almost
certainly would be better off dumped down the toilet.
We got to the Tea Room an we waited in the queue and eventually got our
party called by the pet name of course that friends have for me and which the girls
so humorously gave to the hostess. We came up to the hostess to have ourselves
taken to our seats and the hostess politely giggled and graciously swooned to which
I bowed. When we walked in, heads turned and in my wake followed the familiar
whisperings of the name of my persona to which I silently chortled. (I love that
word) We took our seats and soon the waitress came up to us and, after a short
deliberation, we made our choices and ordered. What followed was the most
surreal, personally amusing, and enjoyable time of the day. I was at “Teatime”. “With
the ladies”. We enjoyed and shared our tea and passed around bite-sized morsels
with which to pair it and indulged in succulent conversation. Every time I chimed in
remarking on something someone said, I was overturned by sheer volume and
feminine force of will. I loved that feeling. Women, mostly, have been such a positive
force in my life I can’t help but feel joy when they’re having a good time. I was in
heaven. The only thing I enjoy more than spending time with my friends is seeing
my friends enjoy themselves. I snapped a quick picture of my friends, an eye-
blinking squint into the pleasure I had of their company, and continued reveling in
the moment.
Soon after facing the sweet indulgent of conversation and different strains of
tea leaves we were approached by the shop owner, an incredibly pleasant man with
a slight jaunt to his walk, graying hair is some parts, silver in others, and a jovial,
grandfatherly smile. He expressed the hope that we were enjoying ourselves in the
form of a query and, shoving our pinkies haughtily in the air, we remarked that it
was the finest cuisine we’d ever had the pleasure of partaking in. The owner then
remarked on my costume and wondered if he could have a few pictures taken to
post on the interwebs to which I responded graciously. He remarked, playfully,
gesturing to my outfit that having a God step down from on high to grace his
establishment was the highlight of his day and he wanted to use the photos to
market a bit. We posed, we talked, I drank, all the while his friend snapping pictures
that later turned on up my feed in the Book of Faces (they were quite fun photos
too).
After our succulent swaray at the Tea Room the only thing that followed that
was as enjoyable was at the end of the day. A great deal of drinking (on my part) and
a great deal of walking (on all our parts) and a great deal of patience (on the girls
parts) throughout the day led us to the gates as the faire was entering its twilight
hours for the day. Just inside the foyer of the castle gates were benches arranged in
a circle of sorts. On these sat all manner of tourists and rennies, (avid ren faire
goers, for all you non-rennies) and in the middle of the circle was a man, clearly
enjoying himself, leading a drumming circle. I. Love drums. I don’t care who you are;
thirty people gathered in a circle banging on drums awakens something inside
everyone. Something that speaks to us from an age that we knew once long ago but
has yet seemed to drift from us in the tide of change. Yet when I hear drums, I can
still hear my ancestors beating hearts across that sea and it calms and impassions
me.
The drumming continued, he asked everyone to pick a beat and got others in
the group to create a complimentary rhythm. Eventually he got people up to dance
and there was a massive pile of people shaking tail and whipping hair (in a very
conservative manner though, this was the South for God’s sake.. ah shit.. lords name
in vain..). Widgen readily joined in the dance while Taffeta happily stayed seated
nursing the established rhythm on the drum that she’d received from someone else
leaving the circle while Lilith celebrated her time by staying partially hidden in the
crowd. (The birthday girl, and she’ll admit this herself, is somewhat shy, not
seemingly prone to compulsive acts of wild extroversion.) The dance and drumming
eventually ended and the cannon, signaling the end of the faire, sounded and we
reluctantly, but not without contentment, made our way through the portcullis. We
said our goodbyes wishing each person well, especially Lilith who had made fast
friends with my fairy-eyed friend who had come down to visit. We got in the car and
made our way back to drop off Taffeta in the outskirts of the city at her home and
my roaming friend and I made our way back to my abode. We rested for the night,
talking long into the night, drinking, showing each other new music, watched a
Disney movie, and eventually said our goodnights. Widgen stayed visiting for a few
days following, exploring the town at her leisure, coming by my place of work to
visit, and relaxing before continuing on her journey. It all felt very old-world, having
a friend you hadn’t seen in a while come visit, breaking bread and sharing drink. I
enjoyed that feeling immensely. (Not many people come to visit me, it’s usually I
who travel to visit them, so having a friend visit is and was a treat sweeter than
wine.)
I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Lilith since that day of the faire (I hope I don’t
see hide of any of my friends. That would indicate they’re perhaps more animal than
human which, actually at second thought, might indicate them being a lycanthrope
of sorts and I would be excited about.) In any case I hadn’t seen nor heard from her
until the day after I said my farewell to my fairy-eyed friend.
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