A Chaos Faerie's Thoughts
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| She reached up to pet her duo of metaphysical dream fish, as they ceaselessly and delightfully babbled strange, insightful quotes, the very same she found herself capable of pulling out of her boundless Discordian devotion, and sighed contently. She shouldn't have gotten angry like that, bad thoughts mean bad dreams, and if her fish could enjoy things, so could she. After all, home was never out of reach. | She reached up to pet her duo of metaphysical dream fish, as they ceaselessly and delightfully babbled strange, insightful quotes, the very same she found herself capable of pulling out of her boundless Discordian devotion, and sighed contently. She shouldn't have gotten angry like that, bad thoughts mean bad dreams, and if her fish could enjoy things, so could she. After all, home was never out of reach. | ||
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Revision as of 01:21, 22 January 2013
Xaolyn was a faerie, a faerie named Xaolyn, to be exact. While Xaolyn wasn't her actual name, what it used to be had been long lost in her 154 years of existance. She was a Discordian. Being a Discordian was important to Xaolyn, who loved her Goddess, Eris with all her heart. She loved the force of Hodge, disorder, but not for its entropic qualities, or even for its insanely unpredictable random qualities. She loved it for its association with the surreal, the bizarre, the creative, and the colorful.
All these factors lead to an interesting question. Why was she sitting around in a chapel to a god of order and goodness? She thought this to herself, as she grumbled at the blinding holy whiteness that constantly intruded on her reverie-induced mental filter that was making the chapel into an otherwise nonsensical, whimsical corruption of itself to her senses. Her other consciousness quickly reminded her of the paranoia it was feeling. Yehovah might not be entirely accepting of those of a disordered persuasion, or faeries, but he was a very forgiving god, and cared about his own church being a peaceful, civil place.
Problem is, peaceful and civil also meant another adjective: BORING. Even with the constant absurdity her own mind projected on her surroundings, she had a constant desire for new inspiration, for her imagination to utilize for fun new ideas. Problem was, she had already been around most of Aedaris, and a lot of the areas outside it. There were some areas that she hadn't been around too much, but... they felt to her, oddly... wrong, not like how the Exoma feels to people of a logical mind, but how staring into the abyss makes the abyss stare back. Even the crystal cavern, in a sea of primal chaos, was somehow, more correct than the majority of the Almerian mainland. This was probably just her being weird and illogical though.
The church was safety though, Xaolyn liked safety. Her Goddess was no babysitter though, so she either had to fend for herself most of the time, or rely on Yehovah's watchful eye. She had been teased by her fellow Discordians about her disdain for the more overtly violent aspects of disorder, but she paid it no heed, chaos to her, was creation without logic, not destruction with prejudice. She even saw the importance of order, of Podge, on the grand scale of things. Light and dark made a shadow, hodge and podge... made a chao. Granted, she, like her fellow Discordians, preferred the hodge to the podge, and even she harbored desires to lessen the impact of order on the world, because order sure seemed like it wanted to lessen the impact of disorder.
She heard stories, about how long, long ago, the first people of the universe were truely free, creatures of pure disorder, shapeless, yet defined masters of the primal chaos of the universe. Then one day, one of them decided that they wanted more, and created an awful perversion of the Logrus; the Pattern, forever tainting the universe into a world of logic and objective sense. Thinking back on such an unforgivable act, made her realize how the Tyrants must feel in their desire to purge her wonderful disorder from the universe. But disorder was there first, and its beauty is what the universe truely is, at its heart, not a heart of order.
She reached up to pet her duo of metaphysical dream fish, as they ceaselessly and delightfully babbled strange, insightful quotes, the very same she found herself capable of pulling out of her boundless Discordian devotion, and sighed contently. She shouldn't have gotten angry like that, bad thoughts mean bad dreams, and if her fish could enjoy things, so could she. After all, home was never out of reach.
