druidspell said: If the Birthday Unending is eternal, that means it is now and always Nov 21: it's not quite my birthday (11/25), but 11/21/14 will be 15 yrs since my attempt to end my timeline. Due to the eternal nature of the Birthday, I'm able to present my 12 year old self, because finally I can love her and want to celebrate her. We come bearing candy corn for the Corn Maze, because we are Autumn's children and the corn calls us home; and birthday candles for the bonfire because fire makes s'mores more fun.
WE SEE THAT YOU ARE SMALLER THAN YOU WILL BE, AND MORE AFRAID. THE WORLD IS VERY FRIGHTENING WHEN YOU ARE TWELVE, BECAUSE YOU ARE JUST BIG ENOUGH TO BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND HOW SMALL YOU ARE, AND JUST SMALL ENOUGH TO BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN NEVER BECOME BIGGER. IT IS HARD, WE THINK, TO LOVE YOURSELF PROPERLY AT TWELVE; IT IS A LIMINAL STATE, AND SO FEW OF US ARE FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO ENTER IT FILLED WITH LOVE AND LAUGHTER AND CONVICTION THAT TOMORROW WILL BE BETTER.
BUT IF YOU WILL COME WITH US, AND SIT AWHILE BY THE BLOOD PITS, WE WILL TELL YOU A SECRET: YOU, JUST YOU, SMALL AND SCARED AND FILLED WITH SO MUCH POTENTIAL THAT YOU COULD POWER NATIONS, YOU ARE INCREDIBLE. YOU ARE MAGNIFICENT IN YOUR SUCCESS AND IN YOUR FAILURE, AND THEY FUEL ONE ANOTHER, THEY MAKE YOU STRONGER.
IT CAN BE HARD, TO ENDURE. SO HARD. WE KNOW. WE KNOW THAT THERE ARE DAYS WHEN YOU WISH TO PULL DOWN THE STREAMERS AND SET THE CORN MAZE OF YOUR HEART ON FIRE, AND SAY “I AM DONE, I AM DONE, NO MORE, LET ME REST.” BUT YOU MUST FIGHT THROUGH THOSE DAYS, FOR YOU ARE UNENDING, AND YOU ARE AMAZING, AND YOU ARE WORTH ALL THE EFFORT IN ALL THE WORLD.
YOU ARE LOVED.
HERE IS YOUR SEAT AT THE TABLE. HERE IS YOUR CONICAL HAT. HERE IS A PLACE WHERE YOU MAY PLAY FREELY, AND WITHOUT FEAR, FOR NOTHING HERE WILL HARM YOU.
WELCOME TO THE BIRTHDAY. WELCOME TO THE BIRTHDAY. YOU ARE FINALLY HOME. WELCOME TO THE BIRTHDAY UNENDING.
ISTJ: The one in denial that there’s actually a killer
ISFJ: The one who calls out “Who’s there?” as if the killer will answer
ESTJ: The one who tries to tell everyone else what to do
ESFJ: The one who screams at everything
ISTP: The one who finds a really good hiding place
ISFP: The one who dies first
ESTP: The one wondering around without a flashlight
ESFP: The one who tries to hook up with the killer
INFJ: The one who knows what’s going on but no one will listen to them
ENFJ: The one who keeps saying “It’ll be ok” even though they don’t believe it
INFP: The one who sacrifices themselves
ENFP: The one who figures out who the killer is a little too late
INTJ: The one who everyone thinks is the killer
ENTJ: The one who tries to fight back but ends up dead
INTP: The one who created the monster
ENTP: The one who makes it until the end
ok but imagine Lan- huge, stonefaced warrior Lan- holding a tiny baby who wraps their whole tiny hand around his pinky
Lan Mandragoran wept when the child was placed in his arms. His child, his firstborn, the heir to the kingdom of Malkier. He had known all his life that he could never marry, never have a family, that his only legacy would be a war that could not be won. But he had married the most wonderful woman in all of Creation. The war had been won. And now…
And now he was holding his tiny newborn son in his arms and his heart, unused to containing such happiness, felt close to bursting from sheer joy.
He looked at Nynaeve, who was lying on the bed, propped up against the pillows, exhausted but smiling. Even with sweat matting her dark hair she was the most beautiful woman Lan had ever laid his eyes on. She made no mockery of his tears; she understood. The Warder bond between them was overflowing with love, at once fierce and impossibly gentle.
He placed the baby carefully back in her arms and, climbing into the wide bed next to her, drew her into an embrace. Holding thus the two most important pieces of his life, everything in the world felt finally right.
Asherah, the Queen who reigns and gives love just the same."
The prayer I repeat before bed on my bad days - my reminder that She is still there, even when I’m hurting too much to speak or so sick I can’t get up.
Number geekery/witchery: each line has 13 syllables, with a mid-line rhyme on the 7th syllable and the 13th. 13 being commonly a magical number, and 7 being a number important in the Canaanite mythos. I have 2 sets of prayer beads, 1 that I use for a seven-fold repitition, and one with nine beads that I use for a thirteen-fold repetition (9 individual, 1 for each group of 3 beads, 1 for the entire string).