Britwitch's Cottage

[marauder13]

I feel the ever pervasive tug of that other world growing stronger, interrupting what occurs in this place. My eyes close briefly, while I discern the true nature of the interference. My head bows and a sigh escapes my lips.

I am sorry, Brit, but other matters are drawing me away from here. And rather than abuse your delightful hospitality, I shall depart and free you for others who seek to visit. When I get the chance, I shall return and see where this leads.

Thank you for being the most charming of hostesses.

I place a brief kiss on her cheek, before slowly fading away until there is nothing remaining except for the whispers on the zephers that dance about the room.

 

[Britwitch]

I wish he didn't have to go but I do understand.

Looking outside I see the sun is almost up over the trees, the days are getting longer and a glance at the thermometer outside the window tells me it's a little warmer too. It's still ridiculously cold here in these Northern woods but definitely getting warmer.

With a nod I decide today is the day. There's a project for my little cottage I've been meaning to get on with for a long, l-o-n-g, time and today is as good a day as any. I have everything I need waiting for me beneath some tarp in a corner of the garden but before I can do anything, there is some snow shovelling to be done.

Pulling on jeans and a thick sweater I head out, a colourful scarf around my neck with matching gloves protecting my hands against the bitter wind. First I clear a path through the thick snow from my door out to the path which is itself under a good foot and a half of snow before turning around and making another walkway from the house leading out into the garden. When I find the spot I seek, I start to clear the white powder, making a definitely circular shaped patch towards one side of the garden.

My cheeks are pinked by the exertion and the chilly air, eyes bright with excitement as I work. I've been looking forward to this.

 

[Britwitch]

Inspiration...

Half baked ideas for threads, dead threads that keep whispering to me to continue them...inspirational images...ramblings...see something that interests you? Let me know!!

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I love this picture...it has a story in it somewhere, just need to find it!

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Pirates

Something piratey...a yarn pulled along by the salty wind and oozing with a sense of adventure.

I miss this old thread very much, it had the potential to become a real adventure story but it ran aground...perhaps it's worth restarting or seeing if my partner of long ago would consider picking it up where it was left off...or maybe it's best left alone...

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Behind Enemy Lines

18th October, 1941

On a beach on Britain’s southern coast British SOE, Jemima Collington, is preparing to go into occupied France on a mission of the utmost importance, for both her and England. A fellow agent is missing, presumed captured, and she has been given the task of either finding and rescuing him, or picking up where he left off should the worst have happened. The missing agent, Michael Graves, is not only a highly skilled and valuable agent, he is also engaged to Jemima.

As she prepares to board the boat that will try to sneak her onto French soil under the cover of darkness, another rescue attempt is being planned on the other side of the channel. The French resistance, based in Bray (a small village, NW of Arras, close to the railway and river) and led by Yvonne Petit, a passionate young woman who joined the cause after both of her parents were killed by the Nazi’s for sheltering POWs, are about to try to rescue the British agent, Graves, who has been working with them for the last year.

Yvonne wants nothing more than to see the regime that has overrun her country overturned but she has another desire on her mind as she and her fellow resistance members sneak through the countryside. Michael has not only been helping her and the resistance gather reconnaissance about the local German ‘authorities’, he has also been her lover. She knows nothing of his life in England but has found kinship with the charismatic Englishman and truly believes herself to be in love with him, as she believes he is with her.

Inside the German headquarters, based within a former French stately home/chateau on the outskirts of Arras, the commander in chief is informing his men of their orders. They have received word of an attempted ‘rescue’ being planned by the resistance thanks to their own spies in the neighbourhood and he would like nothing better than to be able to announce to Berlin the capture of a French Resistance member to accompany the news of his highly prized British prisoner.

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Revolution

Madame Guillotine was a Scarlet Pimpernal-esque thread set in revolutionary Paris. It was an awesome thread that also stopped way before it should. Anyone tempted to try and continue the drama is more than welcome to PM me.

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Neverland

A joyous shout rose on the Jolly Roger. Neverland had changed since nightfall.
Winter had held the magical land and the surrounding sea in its frozen grip when the ship’s crew had gone to bed but now all conquering spring had exploded everywhere.
Neverblossoms covered every branch, in every conceivable colour, scenting the air with their delicate fragrance. Birdsong drifted on the air, occasionally accompanied by the rhythmic beat of the Indian drums, harmonized by the mermaids in the lagoon and every now and then interrupted by a whoop from the lost boys somewhere within the trees.
The sea was now a tempting sparkling turquoise, nothing like the icy white it had been before, and sunlight warm and seductive drew sighs from the pirates below as they turned their bristled chins skyward.
This change, as marvelous as it was for the on looker, held particular interest for one man.
Captain James Hook. For if spring had returned…it could mean only one thing.

Peter Pan was back in Neverland. And if Pan was back, the Captain could finally put his plan into action.

In order to comply with Lit rules, Peter’s latest adventure has caused him to age significantly, placing him well within the guidelines for stories!

Peter still needs to have an innocence about him and I don’t really want a pantomime villain-Disneyesque Captain Hook…was thinking more along the lines of Jason Isaacs’ portrayal of Hook rather than Dustin Hoffman’s!

The dastardly Hook decides, as per usual, to kidnap Wendy to try and tempt the flying wonder onto his ship...however, the real world has moved on and am thinking the unfortunate girl who ends up being 'bagged' by the pirates (also of age to comply with rules) is a descendant of the original Wendy…
Upon their return to Neverland and the Jolly Roger, it is discovered that while Hook's hostage isn't quite who they thought she was, she is of an age, and womanly shape, to awaken long forgotten desires within the pirate Captain and create new and very confusing feelings in Peter...

Tinkerbell...the mischeivous, beautiful and famously highly jealous fairy would see Peter in his new form and want him for herself more than ever and may even work with Hook to try and keep our ‘Wendy’ figure out of the picture so the fairy can seduce Peter for herself, once using a little fairy dust to make herself a little taller of course

The thread would hopefully be, slightly light hearted but with the potential to be dark and erotic and all the things a good story should be.

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Heroine for a future thread about a ghostly love story...about love that never dies...a cursed soul, mountains, beautiful Scottish scenery, dashing hero and tragic heroine...should be good...when I get around to writing it. Until then, will keep her here

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Master and Maid

Martha had been a maid in the house of the Darkwood family since she was 14 and after 10 years of faithful service she had been promoted to the level of personal maid to Lady Darkwood. Martha was sweet, kind and devoted to the family she served. After the deaths of her mother through illness and her father through drink (and a broken heart she believed) she had been brought into service in the mansion, from that moment on she had become a part of a new family.

Always a little on the short side for her age, she seemed to have grown very little in her time at Darkwood house. She had grown up though, her soft features had become more defined, her bright blue eyes had become more inquisitive and her softly waving dark hair now reached almost to her waist. Not that it was ever on show. Every morning she carefully pinned it all up and then carefully placed her white cap on the top of it. She had developed a womanly figure beneath her corset and black dress but she barely noticed it. Why would she? She had no looking glass in her small attic bedroom and the thought to look at herself whilst in her mistress’ chamber had never occurred to her. She merely dressed herself each morning and then went about her duties, helping to dress her mistress, helping out with any sewing and mending that might need doing, occasionally helping out in the kitchen or serving at the family’s dinner table. Sometimes she tending to guests staying at the mansion, but rarely was she called to serve upon Lord Darkwood, he had his own valet for his needs.

However, one fine morning, as she was helping her mistress to dress Martha was informed she would have extra duties from the following day. Their son, the honourable Robert Darkwood was returning to the family home after spending the last few years travelling the world. She would need to help him as and when he required until a suitable valet could be found. Martha had been unable to suppress the smile that curved her soft, pink lips. She and Robert had been playmates and confidantes when they were much younger and she had often found herself wondering what he had been up to since leaving the house. He was witty and generous, he’d taught her to read and write and shared the things he was told by his tutors. She knew he was handsome but at the age they had been, such things counted for little. Besides which, he was the son of her employers, to think of anything beyond mild friendship was unthinkable. And even if it wasn’t, why would he look at her when he could have any woman of his choosing. Anyway, the chances were he was going to come home with a pretty young wife from overseas. Martha sighed a little and then smiled at her mistress and said she’d be happy to be of any service she could. If nothing else, she was genuinely happy to know he was safe and well and on his way home.

Once her mistress was dressed, Martha was excused. Knowing she would have a few hours before she was needed to help with the serving of luncheon, she headed out into the grounds for a walk. Something she did quite a lot. Walking through the sculptured gardens, with their ponds and rosebeds, secluded groves and alleys of trees she was free to get lost in her own imagination. Little did she know that Robert Darkwood was on his way home sooner than expected…

Looking for a male writer to join me in a historical romp Am hoping to write something of a love story with a difference.

I was thinking of NPCing the role of Robert with my co-writer taking the part of the younger son of a neighbouring Lord.
Robert loves Martha, always has, and his travels to study have only shown him how much she means to him. He plans on proposing, when the time is right...however he gets called away to deal with a family emergency shortly after asking...

Here enters our villain (picture below).

He was childhood friends with Robert and Martha and always had eyes for Martha. But she never saw him as anything but a friend. One day in their teens he tried to show her how he felt, having had some rather brusque advice from one of the stable boys, and ended up with a slapped face for his trouble. Since then he has developed something of a 'specific' taste for the darker pleasures of the flesh (things innocent little Martha hasn't the slightest idea of) and has earned quite the reputation among the women in the area. Rumour has it he regularly beds the wives of the old Lords and they do go through a lot of young maids in his home...a lot of young maids who all kinda look like Martha...

When he hears news of Robert and Martha's engagement all the hurt he felt from his youth returns, his anger at always playing second fiddle to the older brothers floods his mind.

Anyhoo, Robert's father will ask our villain to keep an eye on things at Darkwood Hall while they are away, make sure Lady Darkwood is safe and well. Giving him every excuse to keep popping in, even staying the night...giving him the chance to act on some of his darker desires towards poor Martha without worrying about being caught...

Am hoping for a fairly slow paced thread with our villain's torment of Martha gradually building over time - He can't just walk through the door, pin her against a bookcase and have at it!
He plans on taking out all his frustrations on her, do all the things he's ever fantasised about and who knows...after some time...she might even enjoy his treatment of her...

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Found this during my wanderings...there may be a story in it...or just a filthy little fantasy about someone wanting to see me over my desk...

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Just because it's yummy!

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An Unlikely Love

Something along the lines of Beatrice and Benedict in 'Much Ado About Nothing'. A couple who spend so much time fighting, arguing, mentally sparring that they don't see the reality...the fact that they can't actually live without the other.

That is until something happens that throws their relationship into this strange, new, and thoroughly unexpected phase.
Could be a present day tale or something more historical and closer to the Bard's setting.

Still need something, the catalyst, for the change in their relationship...any ideas?

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Something Lost, Something Found

A fantasy idea...but again could fit in a modern setting with the right twist.

She's a hunter, a bounty hunter. Beautiful and brave. Strong and sweet - but only to those who know her. To everyone else, she's tougher than iron and a force to be reckoned with. Deadly when the situation calls for it. She's hard to find, no one really knows who she is or where she came from but everyone knows she's good at what she does.

Her latest quarry...a man who has fled a debt. A thief, and if the rumours are to be believed, dangerous.

She's on his trail though, through the woods and the wild. Should have caught up with him in a day or so, have her reward a day later and then perhaps a little break. Take some time to herself.

They will meet but things won't go quite as she planned when somehow she ends up facing the point of his sword and it seems she wasn't the only one hunting in the shadows.

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Out of Sight

Something of an idea...a period piece...

1920's, post war, women emancipated following the war, the daughter of a well to-do family starts a relationship with someone her family would rather she didn't. A member of staff perhaps? An ill thought of family?

So she's sent away before things can become troublesome. A distant relation/family friend is a missionary abroad...China or somewhere equally hot and foreign - the perfect place to send her. The intent is for her to lost these unwanted feelings and learn a little more of the kind of behaviour they think she should display.

But things don't go quite as planned.

This could go one of several ways...she could fall for someone who works at the mission (which itself could be romantic or something a little darker) or a local...again, something which would not approved of. She could meekly learn the lessons hoped she would or she could rebel against them. A local 'dignatary' could take an interest in her.

Not sure where, if anywhere, this could end up...but...the idea is there nonetheless.

 

[Britwitch]

It is warmer today. Still well below freezing but a good 20 degrees higher than it has been recently. But the frozen weather has brought nights filled with the Northern Lights so I can't complain!

The cottage smells of baking and little else. I am in the middle of making cake pops for colleagues and pupils ready for Valentine's Day - like lollipops but with cake and frosting inside a chocolate shell. De-lish!

I am at the stage where I have to wait for things to chill and set and so I go settle myself on the couch to watch the snow falling gently outside, cradling a mug of tea in my hands, brain trying to work out a response to Marauder and trying to put together a PM for the Fish.

 

[Perplexia]

It is warmer today. Still well below freezing but a good 20 degrees higher than it has been recently. But the frozen weather has brought nights filled with the Northern Lights so I can't complain!

The cottage smells of baking and little else. I am in the middle of making cake pops for colleagues and pupils ready for Valentine's Day - like lollipops but with cake and frosting inside a chocolate shell. De-lish!

I am at the stage where I have to wait for things to chill and set and so I go settle myself on the couch to watch the snow falling gently outside, cradling a mug of tea in my hands, brain trying to work out a response to Marauder and trying to put together a PM for the Fish.

sneaks in swats her butt kiss' her neck and poofs.

 

[Fish_Tales]

It is warmer today. Still well below freezing but a good 20 degrees higher than it has been recently. But the frozen weather has brought nights filled with the Northern Lights so I can't complain!

The cottage smells of baking and little else. I am in the middle of making cake pops for colleagues and pupils ready for Valentine's Day - like lollipops but with cake and frosting inside a chocolate shell. De-lish!

I am at the stage where I have to wait for things to chill and set and so I go settle myself on the couch to watch the snow falling gently outside, cradling a mug of tea in my hands, brain trying to work out a response to Marauder and trying to put together a PM for the Fish.

Oh goodeee!

*Fish rubs hands...er....fins in glee.*

 

[Britwitch]

sneaks in swats her butt kiss' her neck and poofs.

gasps, giggles and sighs

Oh goodeee!

*Fish rubs hands...er....fins in glee.*

All in good time my good Fish, all in good time

 

[Fish_Tales]

All in good time my good Fish, all in good time

Crikey - never thought I'd see so many "good"s in once sentence - especially on this site and in that context!!

 

[Britwitch]

Crikey - never thought I'd see so many "good"s in once sentence - especially on this site and in that context!!

grins mischievously

I like to think I can still surprise people every now and then, even with all the eye opening things going on around here

 

[Dramaticflare]

The fog was thick, dark, and unwelcoming. Of course, it was also cold but Dramatic had gotten used to that. The tenth time his mailed gloves had frozen in place he hadn't bothered to break them up. His hands didn't feel all that cold, which he hoped wasn't a bad thing. He just clambered on through the piling snow drifts.
Then he noticed a light. It was distant, yellow, and beautiful. Like a candle to those who had become nearly blind in darkness. It gave him a bit of hope for thois current predicament. He unconciously hurried toward it. Brighter it become, promising it's warmth if only Dramatic could arrive. Forcing his metal shod feet through the unpacked snow, Dramatic plundged onward toward the light until it took form and reason, a cottage in the woods with pleasantly yellow windows. Dramatic assessed the house in disbelief. For a minute, Dramatic had considered that he might not make it out of this blizzard alive. The house even smelled good. Half thinking it was a snow mirage, Dramatic raised his hand and pounded on the door twice. he felt the ice in the rings break from the force, and suddenly he could bend his hand again.
Surely he wouldn't be able to feel a snow mirage too?

 

[Britwitch]

The pounding on the door was unexpected and made her jump. She had settled on the couch to watch the fog as it wound it's way around the tree trunks. Blotting out the world and smothering it with its grey white haze.
Pulling her shawl around her shoulders she crossed to the door and opened it. Blue eyes widening to see what appeared to be a knight on her doorstep.

"Do come in..."

She urged, standing back to give him room to do so.

"It's bitterly cold out there!"

 

[Dramaticflare]

The door before him was opened by a woman. He heard her voice but couldn't see well. The fog and his helmet blocked his vision.. He bowed to her a little stiffly, snow falling off of his pauldrons. He then stepped through the door into the warmth within.
"Thank you," he said a bit stiffly. He looked about himself a bit, then reached up and took off his helmet. His closely cut brown hair had been matted down and was wet with sweat. He breathed harshly, the exercise of moving through snow being taxing. His cheeks had turned red due to cold and his green eyes remained unfocused as they got used to see more than a few square inches again. Again he looked about himself until he settled his eyes upon his hostess. He breathed in deeply as the smell of her cooking was finally able to reach him.
"If I might ask, who do I have the pleasure of addressing and what is that amazing smell?"

 

[Britwitch]

She shut the door behind him and turned just in time to see him pulling his helmet off. Taking in his tired appearance her smile grew softer.
“I’m Brit, at least that’s what most people call me and what you can smell are cakes. I like to bake and there are some lemon cakes in the oven. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and I will make some tea and, hopefully, one of the cakes should be ready for you to taste too…”

Gesturing for him to move further inside the kitchen-come-living room, she headed towards the fire and swung a large iron kettle over the flames to heat. Picking up a cloth she opened the oven and smile, satisfied, to see the small buns had risen and were perfectly cooked.
Lifting them onto the sideboard to cool a little, she looked back toward her curious guest.

“Might I ask who you are…? It’s not often I see people in the woods in weather like this, and even rarer that a knight shows up at my door.” Her tone is slightly teasing but kind. “Do make yourself comfortable, I’ll bring the tea and cake to you…after all, I like to look after my visitors…” She nods towards the couch and easy chair near the open fire that crackles at the other end of the room.

 

[Dramaticflare]

"I'm called dramatic, usually, though some call me Flare instead. Either way is fine," though his last word was cut off by a grunt of exertion from taking off his pauldrons and bracers. "I don't honestly know how I got here. The fog usually doesn't result in friendly cabins..." he trailed off and looked out a window. Shaking his head, he continued dismantling his armor. After a few minutes of work unstrapping and popping open latches, the final piece fell to the floor. He took off his quilted padding until he stood in blue jeans and a teeshirt that read, "Finntroll."
"What brings one such as yourself to live so far out?" He asked while settling onto the couch.

 

[Britwitch]

"Well, I'm glad you found your way here, the paths all start to look the same when it gets dark in the woods. You might have found yourself wandering all night!"
Carefully balancing a plate of the freshly baked cakes on her arm, she brings two steaming mugs of tea to the couch and sits beside him.
"As for me, I love it out here. The peaceful nature of life in this part of the world. Just me and the trees...and the occasional visitor..."
With a grin she lifts and offers the cakes.
"Do try one...is there anything else I can get you, are you warm enough...?"

 

[Dramaticflare]

"I'm quite warm, now. Thank you. I just need a chance to rest before I move on again." He grinned politely as he took the cup and a cookie. "Thank you. It's been long since I've had quality food." He bit into the cookie and stopped for a second. "Very high quality food." He finished.
Dramatic seemed to slip off into his own world for a few seconds as he stared into the fire. His color started returning to normal. He suddenly refocused on the woman beside him.
"Sorry. It's been a while since I've seen a friendly face," he admitted.

 

[Britwitch]

"Glad you like it," She takes a cake herself and puts the plate onto a nearby table before settling back on the couch. "Eat as many as you like..."
She watches him relax, curious to find out more about him. Not least of all, to find out about his choice of outer clothing.
She smiles shyly as he looks back at her.
"Well, I aim to be a friendly face for any weary travellers in the woods and you can rest here for as long as you need." She insists gently, sipping her tea, before asking with a definite sparkle in her eyes. "Can I ask about your armour? Are you a knight or do you just find yourself running into dragons on a regular basis?"

 

[Dramaticflare]

"Where I come from, the places I have been, death lurks around every corner. Walking without armor and weapon would just get me killed. But I am no knight, and I've only found three dragons. I've killed two of them." He added solemnly. He finished his cookie and took a second. "I'm not from a happy fantasy," he added.
Dramatic unceremoniously wiped some crumbs off of his face.
"I thank you for the offer of hospitality. I haven't honestly felt a good fire since... I honestly don't know how long."

 

[Britwitch]

"Well that is a shame," She replies, a slight frown creasing her brow. "But I suppose not all fantasies can be happy ones...I should count myself lucky that dragons are rare visitors to these parts, I've always felt quite safe here."

She leaves his side for a moment to add another couple of logs to the merrily dancing flames.

"And the fire is yours to share for as long as you wish." She finishes before draining the last of the tea from her cup. "Would you like some more tea, or is there anything else I can get you...?" The offer is made as she rises, hand extended to take his cup should he give it.

 

[Dramaticflare]

He nods and drains his cup. After offering it to her hand, he asks "Have you ever actually had a dragon out this far? It doesn't seem like their usual habitat. Not a lot of wayward adventures for them to eat." He adds with a grin.
He lounges back into the couch and spreads his arms over the back of it. "Unless, whereever I have suddenly found myself, dragons could speak or do something else odd." He relaxed as he stared at the ceiling.

 

[Britwitch]

Taking his cup, she heads back towards the kitchen, laughing softly at his dragon comment. Pouring the hot liquid into the cup and adding some milk.
"I haven't seen one myself, but sometimes you hear noises you can't explain. Find marks, tracks, in the mud that defy logic. But adventurers are few and far between and..." Coming back she gave him a wink as she added. "...damsels in distress are even fewer!"
Holding out his drink, she sits back down beside him. Slightly closer than before, not necessarily by design but closer nonetheless.

 

[Dramaticflare]

He took the cup with a simple nod of appreciation.
"As I said, I'm not really a knight. Errant or otherwise. The only damsel I've rescued was a witch who taught me some magic in return. She certainly wasn't marriageable." He considered himself for a moment, looking down at his knees. "I suppose there's the Maiden too, but she certainly isn't friendly. And i'd probably run her through with my sword before I rescued her."
He looked at her suddenly. "You don't really have any enemies, do you?"

 

[Britwitch]

"Enemies?" A delicate eyebrow arches in surprise. "No, at least, not that I know of...the only people who visit here are friends, or acquaintances who soon become friends...and I've tried to act towards others the way I would hope they would act towards me..." She shrugs, letting her eyes drift out of the window, noting how the fog has now smothered the woods entirely. Even her small garden has vanished into the whiteness. Eyes sparkled as they drifted back to his face. "And you've nothing to fear, I'm not what they call a wicked witch..."

 

[Dramaticflare]

"There is too much good in you for me to consider you a wicked witch. And you still have your soul, so you're not some malevolent demon's plaything." He added before finishing off the cookie and leaning back again with his tea. He started watching the meerily crackling fire as the wood turned from brown to red to black to grey this little slice of peace he had found: this place of being freely, was an unexpected boon for him. He simply hoped he could return when he needed to. As dark as it was, his world was home.
"Of course, i'd be curious to know what kind of magic you could perform."

 

[Britwitch]

"I light candles, I praise the full moon and respect nature...I read tarot...I make oils, I brew tea...hardly the stuff of legend and myth but magickal things in their own ways. I believe that if you do good things then good things will find you just as if you let darkness rule your heart and mind then that is what will ultimately be your fate..." She lets her eyes wander over his visibly relaxing form, wondering just what he has left behind in 'his world' that makes it such an unhappy place to reside.
"I'm afraid the magick I practice isn't particularly spectacular..."