09-22-2016, 02:46 AM
The Hedge
The thorny maze that surrounds Faerie holds many mysteries to the Lost. Certain aspects of the Hedge are well-known, but much like modern technology, even those who use them regularly do not necessarily understand the “how” of them, and almost no one is certain exactly of the “why.” Those who remember being abducted by the Fae almost always have memories of being dragged painfully through the Hedge’s Thorns on their way back to their would-be Keeper’s demesne. No matter how clear the path seems to be, none but the True Fae pass uninjured into Faerie. And those who remember their return recall an equally painful departure, as if the Thorns were unwilling to free them before exacting a suitable toll. Because of this, if nothing else is known for certain about the Hedge, it is generally held to act as a boundary between the mortal world and that of the Fae. This is, however, one of the only (mostly) certain facts about it. Most other aspects are mutable, as well suits a place whose entire reason for being seems to be to obstruct and confuse.
The Hedge can as easily manifest as immaculately landscaped Victorian hedgerows as it can ghastly stinking bogs where passage is marked (or hidden) by treacherous stretches of murky water. Thick primeval forests where undergrowth snatches at the clothing and flesh of those who would pass through is as much a part of the Hedge as impassable jungle tangles rife with venomous-looking sucker-vines, and carnivorous vegetation. Perhaps more confusing than the many possibilities of flora and fauna within the Thorns, however, is the Hedge’s mutable nature. There seems to be a psychoactive element to the Hedge, an effect that is heightened by those with powerful fae magic. Around those with a high Wyrd, the Hedge conforms intrinsically to their nature, manifesting cold winds and ice around winter-aspected changelings, or deeper shadows around those who prefer to remain in the dark. It is as if the fae borderlands inherently sense the strength of the changelings who travel there, and echo back elements of the strongest fae spirits in a physical form.
Certain aspects remain true, despite the mutability of the landscape, however. Paths and roads traverse the Hedge, some leading solely to other entry and exit points to the mortal world and some — most often the clearest— stretching deeper into the fae landscape. While human instinct often dictates that the broad road is the safe one, in Faerie such idioms are rarely true. Those roads that are the clearest are often those that are maintained by the magic and will of the True Fae. Such roads may provide swift passage, but the destinations are often ones from which no human returns.
The thorny maze that surrounds Faerie holds many mysteries to the Lost. Certain aspects of the Hedge are well-known, but much like modern technology, even those who use them regularly do not necessarily understand the “how” of them, and almost no one is certain exactly of the “why.” Those who remember being abducted by the Fae almost always have memories of being dragged painfully through the Hedge’s Thorns on their way back to their would-be Keeper’s demesne. No matter how clear the path seems to be, none but the True Fae pass uninjured into Faerie. And those who remember their return recall an equally painful departure, as if the Thorns were unwilling to free them before exacting a suitable toll. Because of this, if nothing else is known for certain about the Hedge, it is generally held to act as a boundary between the mortal world and that of the Fae. This is, however, one of the only (mostly) certain facts about it. Most other aspects are mutable, as well suits a place whose entire reason for being seems to be to obstruct and confuse.
The Hedge can as easily manifest as immaculately landscaped Victorian hedgerows as it can ghastly stinking bogs where passage is marked (or hidden) by treacherous stretches of murky water. Thick primeval forests where undergrowth snatches at the clothing and flesh of those who would pass through is as much a part of the Hedge as impassable jungle tangles rife with venomous-looking sucker-vines, and carnivorous vegetation. Perhaps more confusing than the many possibilities of flora and fauna within the Thorns, however, is the Hedge’s mutable nature. There seems to be a psychoactive element to the Hedge, an effect that is heightened by those with powerful fae magic. Around those with a high Wyrd, the Hedge conforms intrinsically to their nature, manifesting cold winds and ice around winter-aspected changelings, or deeper shadows around those who prefer to remain in the dark. It is as if the fae borderlands inherently sense the strength of the changelings who travel there, and echo back elements of the strongest fae spirits in a physical form.
Certain aspects remain true, despite the mutability of the landscape, however. Paths and roads traverse the Hedge, some leading solely to other entry and exit points to the mortal world and some — most often the clearest— stretching deeper into the fae landscape. While human instinct often dictates that the broad road is the safe one, in Faerie such idioms are rarely true. Those roads that are the clearest are often those that are maintained by the magic and will of the True Fae. Such roads may provide swift passage, but the destinations are often ones from which no human returns.
Don't hesitate to AM(A)A
The bigger you build the bonfire, the more darkness is revealed.
Every possession and every happiness is but lent by chance for an uncertain time, and may therefore be demanded back the next hour.
The bigger you build the bonfire, the more darkness is revealed.
Every possession and every happiness is but lent by chance for an uncertain time, and may therefore be demanded back the next hour.