motherofpigeons - Tumblr blog

[motherofpigeons]

Some portraits from one of my favourite artists. Look, it’s the Last Constable lady here! I hope she is okay, she deserves a nice quiet life somewhere really far from her father. And my Veilgarden fellows - the Sardonic Music-Hall Singer and the Rising Artist’s Model (from times when she was a Struggling Artist’s Model). Also that woman from God’s Editors who I don’t really understand (and don’t like), but at least she is beautiful and elegant. (((OOC: These portraits are made in FeliceMelancholie’s Haunted Portrait Creator, too.)))

[motherofpigeons]

15 April, 1895: Introduction?

I promised to do this, right?

My name is.. Do I really need to say? Well, it’s a diary, almost no secrets. Jane Doe. No jokes, it’s a real name. But well, it’s funny since I conceal it anyway. Bohemian thing, you know. I call myself Mother of Pigeons; people do, too. No one cares about your real name when you’re a person of art. (((OOC: Remember Jane Doe from Shikkoku no Sharnoth ~What a beautiful world~? It’s a story about a sunless London, too. Funny.)))

I’m a “golden mean” in everything - not in a good way.

I came to the Neath from Wales to seek fame, glory and rich life. My father was a merchant, mother - a second-rate actress. So I was a proper middle-class woman, I guess. We were rather wealthy. But after Dad’s death things have gone bad - Mom didn’t earn much, and we weren’t used to save money. We sold our house and moved to the tiny rooms in another neighborhood. Of course, our reputation suffered. Mom was in deep depression, later she fell ill. I was really angry at God, but still could think rationally and make decicions. Maybe I just didn’t really love my parents.

I heard about Fallen London in the Neath. I heard it has.. opportunities. To become a rich, famous and respectable in short time, even being a disgraced middle-class girl like me. And also it has delicious mysteries and secrets - about the whole world. When Mom died, I promised myself to became so famous they’ll hear about me at the Surface - as an artist or as someone more serious, like a scholar. And so I went underNEATH. In my first days I just tried to steal things - and was imprisoned. I learned my lesson (although I still need to steal sometimes, huh - an important aspect of life in the Neath) and decided to escape to Veilgarden and begin my fabulous Cinderella tale from there.

Well, that’s the past; nothing of interest. For now I am known as a respectable author and a lady well-connected with Bohemian, Society the Court and even Hell. I’m pleased, but this is only the beginning. I didn't expect myself to fall in love with atmosphere and mysteries of the Neath so quickly and deeply. The Bazaar and her Masters, the Judgements and the Liberation of Night, the Zee, the Hell, Rubbery Men and Tomb-Colonists, the Elder Continent, the Fallen Cities, the Parabola... so much to explore, so much inspiration. I'm even involved in the Great Game now, gladly helping the Cheesemonger - and I was never interested in politics!

I can’t say much about my personality. Maybe because I still don’t even know myself much. Some people call me daring and magnanimous, others - subtle and ruthless. A human soul is full of contradictions, you know. Especially an artist’s soul. I can act as anyone if necessary. One thing I know for sure - I am too curious. It’s bad here, in the Neath, to be curious. On the other hand, you can’t die here permanently - and everything else can be fixed.

Appearance. I’m of average build, not skinny and not that really womanly-curvy. I have middle-length reddish-brown hair, a slightly tanned skin and green eyes - more viric than apocyan, they say. A lot of tiny birthmarks over the face (or are they freckles?) which I love and don’t want to conceal with powder.

When talking about appearance, portraits come in handy. I can introduce mine.

Look: a not that old, but rather damaged portrait from times when I was a mere minor poet from Veilgarden. Dowdy, isn’t it? Not that I had better clothes those times.

And this is the last portrait of mine, by a really fashionable Court artist. I got a lot of profit from silk-trade and writing books, so lately I spoiled myself with buying rather luxurious clothes. Lace gloves, spider-silk slippers and a magnificent gown. I could never have something like these things on the Surface.

Now you have a vague impression what kind of person I am. Not that you need it. Will someone even read it? I hope not.

(((OOC: The portraits are made in FeliceMelancholie’s Haunted Portrait Creator. Thanks the author for the amazing work, it’s one of my favourite avatar creators now.)))

[motherofpigeons]

12 April, 1895: do cats have souls?

Love devils too much, and you’ll be involved in some freaky stuff eventually. Is “being involved in some freaky stuff” bad, is up to you.

As for me, I’m, like, a spirifer now. (I hope no one will read this while I’m still alive; if you do.. d__n.) It all begun when I overheard a conversation about, like, a hundred of soulless folks hanging around the Flowers. Work of some woman calling herself the Sour Elizabeth. Okay, I’m not the only one with a silly nickname. It was really easy to track her, by the way; I have almost none shadowy skills, but seems like she is even less talented. Anyway, I left her be and just take those poor unfortunate souls in her muddy bottles. I’m not a moralist (who is? This is the Neath, come on!), so I just, eh, sold them to the Brass Embassy. And then they gave me that fork, like “okay, if you like to do immoral things so much, you’re welcome here anytime”. Not that I’ll go hunt souls anytime soon - too busy for that. But still the devils were charming, the payment was good. I’m pleased.

But do you know what’s really fun? To be a spirifier and to be a bl__dy Court of Cats arbitrary at almost the same day.

The Court of Cats.. not much to say here. It was a hazy story. But funny. Did I say I like the Duchess and her cats? How many times did I? She has her own Court of Cats! And not your useless (but still cute) Surface cats - Neathy cats are serious business. I didn’t really get that, but they kinda live in Parabola. And the Duchess is important.. somehow and somewhere. I didn’t get much explanations. In fact, I just, eh, judged two divorcing cats. Yeah, just that. Sorry, nothing important here. Just sad.

But they took me to the Mirror-Marches, and THAT was magnificent. ..Also hot and really humid. The vivid and lively jungle in the mirrors. I hope I’ll get a dream like this again someday.

But wait, one more note: a kind person. Mr. Kerim, gave me a real Parabolan kitten! I like it so much!! Now I have a raven, a salt weasel, a monkey, a goldfish (where is the Last Constable lady now, I wonder?) and a Parabolan kitten. I’ll open a zoo in my townhouse one day, I promise.

[motherofpigeons]

11 April, 1895: dreams and.. dreams

Yesterday was kinda weird. Like, so weird I even decided to start a diary. I absolutely didn’t just want to test my new typewriter.

No time for introducing myself, sorry, wait for tomorrow. Do I even need to do that in my own diary? Well, I suppose I do; if I really will become a famous person, people will read this eventually.

There was a story. About a nurse, her sisters, about her men (well, not actually her?). And that charismatic Devil fellow; I hope I’ll meet him again. The nurse was sweet, but just too pure and indecive; the poet - a useless slacker and weakling; the admirer - knightly, reliable, a good man in general.. but I didn’t really like him, there were some issues between him and the nurse’s sister. Oh, the sister was nice. She liked to hang out with the Urchins. I hope she is okay now. There was a complex love and priorities tangle; I won’t tell how we resolved that. (((OOC: She is talking about an Exceptional story, and I’d like to support the developers and not spoil fate-locked content as much as I can.))) But I just wanted to write down something: you only live once, so listen to your heart and chase after your dreams; if you have a dream and can somehow free yourself from your restraints (like family, society, reputation?) - go for it. Like, the nurse gave me a gift for my help - a bottle of something, maybe, really valuable; but I didn’t really care, sold it for an outrageous price and finally bought a bl__dy Ornate Typewriter I really wanted. No regrets.

And the devil said something really sweet: “In case you were wondering, you do tempt me, even if your soul wouldn’t entirely match my collection.” ♡ 

Also last night I had a nightmare. The WEIRD one. Maybe I drank too much coffee yesterday with Tanith. (Yeah, Ms. Wyrmwood, the sweet and furious girl. She never bores me!) I wrote some clues right after waking up and then told Tanith, almost accurately. 

The beginning: I wake up in my room, drowning in a flood of boiling hot top-grade darkdrop coffee. I dunno if it’s even a nightmare? After all, you don’t feel pain and don’t die in your dreams.. if the serpent-kings aren’t in a bad mood. I am carried away, out of the widely opened window, by a.. coffeefall? And then I see how London becomes the Hell. Everything melts, people boil to death. I am the one of the few who weren’t affected by any kind of harm in this dream (wow, I’m a Mary Sue - really a nightmare for a writer!); I even manage to grab a lonely boat and after that just swim around, enjoying the terrifying scene. A lot of steam with such amazing and strong flavour. And smoke. Because later there is fire; a lot of anarchists in boats, with torches, burning everything; laughing devils and.. I’m sure I heard crying Bazaar. The coffee level slowly rises up, and I swim to The House of Chimes and climb up and sit there and watch. It is’t really a high spot, but still the view is magnificent; the atmosphere, too. After that I don’t remember much, but it was like a very slow and calm apocalypse. The entire Earth were drowned in top grade darkdrop coffee. The anarchists eventually die. Coffee clouds cover the Earth, and no one can see the Sun. This is.. the freaking Sunless Earth. And I am one of the few alive there, wandering around. 

Yes. That was some crazy serpent-joke. And I drank too much coffee again today while telling this at the Caligula's! I’m afraid to go to bed now.