On the Seventh Day of Christmas Anne managed to avoid…Seven potentially disastrous “out-ings”

On the Seventh Day of Christmas Anne managed to avoid…Seven potentially disastrous “out-ings”

Anne gripped the beam for dear life, hanging over a crowd of Bristol visitors and inhabitants. Thanks to Captain Drake, who had spotted the hiding place of the Cabin Boy, Anne was now giving those below her a fine view up her un-tucked shirt. This, however was not Anne’s most worrisome problem. There was the issue of how she’d actually get down from the beam.

The first problem was solved by Stretch the Sailor. Stretch was so tall that he was able to move under Anne Drew’s feet and shuffled to a supporting beam. Anne climbed down and quickly tucked her shirt back in, glancing around nervously. Most of the town of Bristol already knew her secret, but some remained a little ignorant on accounts of bad eyesight or simply not having met Anne before.

It was Estella’s expression in particular that Anne was worried about. The Draco was wavering between outrage and disappointment. Looking to do some damage control, Anne rushed over to the distraught Estella and whispered a hasty explanation in her ear.

“But you’re a girl!” Estella shouted above most of the din of the party. Unfortunately, Frobisher was in earshot and happened to turn his head towards the two young women at that very moment.

“What’s that?” He strode over in two steps. “Who’s a girl?”

“But…But…” Estella sputtered. Anne thought quick and ducked behind Frobisher and hurried to Hawkyns.

“We’ve got a problem.” Anne informed her father. “Estella knows I’m a girl and she’s about to tell Frobisher.”

“Captain Frobisher knows you’re a what Anne-Drew?” Captain Drake interjected. Since Anne had once thought that Captain Sir Francis Drake might have been her father at one time, she had never disillusioned him of the notion that she might not be male.

“I’ll explain later Francis.” Hawkyns ushered Anne away from a very confused Drake. “I’ll do damage control on Frobisher, keep by the rest of the crew for now.”

Anne found a spot by John T Hawser the Boatswain, Stretch the Sailmaker, and most of the BBF. There was a rousing round of a few dice games going on, and plenty of money was changing hands.

“Come to join us, lass?” John misspoke and Anne turned on her heel, looking for another crowd to seek safe haven with. There seemed to be quite a heated discussion between Estella and the other Dracos, with many furtive looks towards Anne. Hawkyns was still talking animatedly to Frobisher and Drake. Anne wondered if she’d last the night without another major mishap. The last time she had to out herself was when Frobisher almost took away her trouser privileges.

Surprisingly, the floozies of Bristol seemed to be low on business at the moment. Thinking that among the company of these women would be as safe as anywhere in the Duck, Anne sought a seat by Ginny Lightskirts, Jezebel Harlot, Roxy Coxbomb, and Chastity Trollop.

“I think Frobisher knows I’m a girl.” She groaned as she took her seat.

Jezebel looked up in surprise. “You’re a girl?”

“You didn’t know?” Anne raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I thought almost everyone but Frobisher knew!”

“Yes, luv.” Chastity agreed. “You’re a little too pretty to be a boy.”

“I’ve seen pretty boys before.” Roxy drawled around her pipe. “More than a few of them were girls too.”

“Besides,” Ginny comforted, “Frobisher never remembers these things for long.”

“True, but what if the Dracos catch me?”

“What if we catch you at what, Anne Drew?” Came the sneering voice of Vinz Clortho. Goosebumps erupted on Anne’s arms as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Now she was in for it. 

Fin

After yesterday's disaster of a failure to post (yes, that is a double negative), I thought something lighthearted that I enjoyed at Bristol would be best to write about. Out-ing Anne was honestly one of my favorite bits and 7 outings in one post was quite the achievement when you're working with a two page limit. Count them, there are 7.

Apologies.

Apologies to you all reading my Bristol Christmas stories.
Sometimes, even with the best of intentions and personal goals, life comes in and says "You're not doing this today."

Please let me assure you that all circumstances are external and not because I gave up on the "post every day" rule I set for myself. It simply was not possible for me to write a full length post.

Hopefully tomorrow everything will be back on board and there will be another post- if for some reason I need to put my Bristol Christmas away for now I promise posts as soon as I am able.

My apologies,
The Author.

On the Sixth Day of Christmas, The Criers Gave To Me…Six Hiding Places.

On the Sixth Day of Christmas, The Criers Gave To Me…Six Hiding Places.

Anne quiet moment would not last. Once again the door of the Dirty Duck Inn burst open and a horde of Draco Disciples burst in with a flurry of cold air and snow, Estella Foxglove among them.

Leaving her mug on the nearest table, Anne darted for the first hiding place she could find, beneath Dorcas Oddpick’s skirts.

“What are you doing?” Dorcas hitched up her skirts and kicked the cabin boy out from under them.

“Um…” Anne thought fast. “I’m playing a game, want to play?”

“What kind of game?”

“Hide and seek. We’re going to hide from Estella Foxglove and the other Dracos.”

“Foxgloves are pretty flowers.”

“And poisonous!” Anne dove beneath the stairs as Estella and Vinz Clortho came their way. Dorcas didn’t follow and Anne hoped that the Towne Crier would have the presence of mind to not say anything to Estella.  

“Estella!” Dorcas cried out to the Draco. “We’re playing a game!”

Anne cursed herself for saying anything to Dorcas. She was a very sweet girl, but sometimes she seemed more than a little absent minded. Anne spotted Dorcas’ fellow crier, Emmaraude A’Right about to pass the stairs and tugged at the passing crier’s skirt.

“Psst, Emmaraude.” She hissed. The crier sank down and grinned in greet.

“How now Anne Drew?”

Anne tugged Emmaraude into her hiding place. “I need to keep away from Estella and Dorcas keeps giving away my hiding places.”

“Hide behind me and we’ll see if Harold can help!” Emmaraude moved quickly with Anne shrinking behind the towne crier towards Harold, who was in conversation with Jasper Trustworthy, man of many (questionable) business enterprises.

“Harold! Jasper!” Emmaraude, ever a ray of sunshine, interrupted. “Know any good hiding places?”

“What for?” Jasper’s eyes roved about, as if he was taking in all of the possible places where he had hidden various objects. “How large are we talking.”

“For Anne Drew. She’s trying to avoid the Dracos.” Emmaraude pulled Anne from her stooped position and Anne crossed her arms.

“I can think of one hiding place…” Harold winked at Anne and her hand went to the short knife at her belt without hesitation.

“Mine’s sharper, and will do more damage.” She retorted.

“There’s always the lake.” Jasper suggested. “We could always tie you to a rock.”

“Already had my bath.” Anne winced at the no so far away memory of her dip in Lake Elizabeth.

“There’s the beams in the rafters…” Emmaruade tapped the side of her nose in deep thought.

“That’ll work.” Anne looked up and studied the beams. It could be a good spot to try. “Gimmie a hand Harold?”

So with Jasper steadying Anne’s arm and Harold giving her a leg up, Anne was able to reach one of the main beams and swing her leg over. “Stop looking, Harold.” She chided, the laughed as the only male crier gave her a wry smile.

Being careful to not look down too much, Anne made her way to the center of the beam and tucked her feet up so she lay in a frog leg position over the party. It reminded her a bit of the crow’s nest on the ship.

“ANNE DREW!” The voice nearly shook Anne off of her perch. “WHAT IN THE NAME OF ST. ELMO ARE YOU DOING?”

Fin. 

This was a hard day to write. Not really happy with this episode. We'll see what happens tomorrow since I'll have even less time to write than I did today. I've just got to remind myself that even if these posts aren't what I want them to be, I'm working on learning to meet my own deadlines and this is "good for me." 

On the Fifth day of Christmas…The Duckies Made Me Sing, Five Sea Shanties!

On the Fifth day of Christmas…The Duckies Made Me Sing, Five Sea Shanties!

            Anne Drew wiggled through a crowed and plopped down next to John T Hawser, her fellow sailor, at the biggest table and snatched up a chicken leg from a platter of food. Everyone was crowded around this table, talking and laughing, and there was even a little bit of singing from the Bristol Buskin Frolic down at the far end.

“How’s your head Anne?” John inquired.

“Hurts a bit,” Anne admitted. She didn’t like to advertise injuries. “How’s your back?”

“It’s doing fair enough.” John nodded. The life of a sailor wasn’t easy on anyone. Each member of the crew of the Gabriel had his (or her) own small aches and pains they managed. “Nice to be back on land.”

“Can I get you gentlemen some Adam’s Ale?” asked Kate of the Dirty Duck Inn, ever ready with a pitcher of Adam’s Ale to quench the thirst of the Duck’s guests.

“Aye, please!” Anne held out her mug and Kate poured a generous amount into her cup. “Grammercy.”
            “Will ye sailors be gracing us this evening with some music, mayhap?” Kate inquired. “We haven’t had any shanties for such a long time.”

Anne and John looked to each other and shrugged. “If the Captain agrees to leadin’ I don’t see why not.” Anne looked about for Captain Frobisher. “CAPT’N!” She shouted.”

“WHAT?” Came the roaring reply from a dusky corner of the Duck.

John raised his eyebrows. “Well, you’ve distracted him.” He gave Anne a nudge.

Anne tiptoed her way over to where her Captain had been busy with Chastity Trollop. Now he was vaguely annoyed at being interrupted. Deciding to play the ignorance of her captain’s romancing, Anne took a bracing swig of Adam’s Ale. “We’ve been requested to sing some sea shanties.”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Frobisher protested. Chastity, however, looked mildly interested in participating with the shanties. She had a few songs of her own that got a crowd laughing and singing along.

“They promised free something-or-other.” Anne lied, taking another drink of Adam's Ale. She hoped that she could wheedle a mug of mulled cider out of Master Peter Cabot, the owner of the Dirty Duck Inn.

“Free?” Frobisher’s ears perked up.

“Why not?” Chastity stood up, to Frobisher’s great disappointment, and the trio made their way towards the main throng of guests. Kate was already standing atop a cleared table (how the ducks managed that is simply impressive and nothing short of a miracle!) and was talking up something she called the “Shipwreck Shanty Show.”

“Can I join in?” Came two voices at Anne’s elbow. Maggie Pie, and Lettuce Gardener two inhabitants of Bristol who possessed lovely singing voices. Maggie’s fellow co-worker, Lefty the Ingles-man (who spoke an extraordinary amount of Spanish for one native to London), joined the group claiming that he knew all about shanties from having lived in one.

“Why not?” Frobisher agreed. “Oy! John, get up here!”

Within minutes the small group of shanty singers had grown to a chorus, still vastly outnumbered by the guests of the Duck. With a quick word to Mast Peter Cabot about the Captain’s free drink, Anne took a perch on the edge of the table and joined into a very loud and multi-keyed rendition of “Pay Me, You Owe Me.”

Much laughter and five songs later, the Bristol Buskin Frolic took over with some merry Yuletide songs and the shanty-sing turned dispersed. Captain Frobisher, with his “free” mug of mulled cider, had sat himself by Captain Hawkyns and Drake and was regaling them with much embellished tales of his latest voyage to the arctic. John yawned and said that he thought that he’d better get some shut eye for the night while there was still a bed to rent in the Inn.

Anne found herself a solitary position, leaning against a standing beam and just taking in the warmth that emanated from not only the fire, but also the people reveling and merrymaking. It felt good to be back in Bristol. 

 Fin. 

I finished this and posted it before 9pm!!! YAY! I haven't liked needing to post things late. Makes me antsy. As always, I hope that you are enjoying these stories and shall post again tomorrow! 

On the Fourth day of Christmas the Witches gave to me…Four Weird Looks.

On the Fourth day of Christmas the Witches gave to me…Four Weird Looks.

Anne tripped down the stairs and looked around the crowded tables for an empty spot. The workers of the Duck were bustling about with pitchers of ale and platters of food.

Frobisher was sitting in a corner with Chastity. Anne didn’t think he’d want to be disturbed. The Towne Criers were trying to get Harold drunk enough that he’d sing Hark the Herald Angels Sing, and while that looked like fun, Anne wanted a few calm moments before charging into the chaos. Hawkyns was arguing with Drake about who was more important, and Maggie Pie the pickpocket was moving about making a living. Just to be sure, Anne checked her own purse making sure nothing was missing. Taking another look around, she spotted a seat by the large fireplace and raced to take it before anyone else.

Taking a seat on a bench across from two of the three witches of Bristol known as the Normyl Sisters, Anne earned herself an odd glare from Beatrix, the younger of the witches. “What’re you doing here?” Beatrix dragged out the vowels of her words and bugged out her eyes. Most of the time this slightly deranged witch simply made strange noises and clacked her spoons together. Right now Beatrix’s spoons were busy ladling soup out of a bowl onto the floor. 

“Good Day Anne Drew.” Came a much more proper greeting from Gertrude, the elder Normyl Sister.  “How fare you this...festive den?” Gertrude's eye twitched at the mention of the holiday.

“Better now.” Anne snatched a mug of small beer from a passing Duck and downed half of it in one gulp. “Fire feels nice.”

“Quite.” Gertrude agreed. “Almost hot enough to burn someone.”

“They tried to burn me once!” Beatrix cackled. Anne raised an eyebrow, Beatrix had spent a good amount of time in Bethlehem Hospital and her stories couldn’t always be trusted. “I just played dead and twitched a lot.”

Gertrude blinked at her younger sister. “Yes dear.” She patted Beatrix on her head. “And it’s a shame they didn’t succeed.”

“I see you dressed up Conrad with a sprig of Holly.”

“It’s Hemlock.” Gertrude corrected, looking fondly at the small fish skeleton hanging from Beatrix’s hat. “Very festive for the Winter Solstice.”

“Plannin’ anything special?”Anne inquired, trying to make polite conversation.

“I might turn the Lord Mayor into a toad!” Beatrix gazed at her spoons, now licked clean of soup and started to beat out a rhythm. “Turn ‘im into a toad! Turn ‘im into a toad!” She roared in a singsong way.

“Now you’ve got her started!” Gertrude whined and shrank from her sister. “She was doing so well and now I’ll have to dose her with chamomile.”

“Does that calm her down?”

Gertrude shook her head. “No, it makes her break out in puss filled warts.”

Anne stopped drinking her beer in mid-sip, nearly performing a perfect spit-take. “Then why give it to her?”

This earned Anne looks of astonishment from both Normyl sisters. “I love warts!” Beatrix crooned and clacked the spoons right in Anne’s face, sending her backwards over the bench and making her spill her beer all over herself.

“Great, now I’m all wet again.” Anne muttered and went off in search of another seat before she could offend the witches again. 

 Fin...

Well I hope the few of you that are still reading my rubbish are liking how the story is developing. I'm not even sure where it will go next, but hopefully it won't end in tears! 

On the Third Day of Christmas, Captain Hawkyns gave to me…Three Clean Shirts.

On the Third Day of Christmas, Captain Hawkyns gave to me…Three Clean Shirts.

            Contrary to the Duck’s summer open-air kitchens, they had moved into a few of the abandoned buildings that Bristol merchants had left in search of warmer climate and better markets. The Duck was full to the brim with the inhabitants and visitors of Bristol. The sounds of laughter, singing, and drinking abounded.

            Frobisher’s face lit up like the starry sky as he spotted a disgruntled Chastity sauntering towards him. “Chastity!”

            “You owe me money!” Chastity brandished her walking cane at the captain.

“Do I?” Frobisher looked to his cabin “boy.” “Andrew, do I owe Chastity money?”

Anne Drew, ever one to ally herself with the right parties (how else did she keep Frobisher blind as a bat to her cross dressing), nodded and smiled at the curly haired floozy, “He does owe you.” She said through chattering teeth. Chastity took one look at the sopping cabin boy (we shall remind the readers of Anne’s dip in Lake Elizabeth in Part 1).

“Thought so, so cough it up!” Chastity held out her hand, waiting.

Frobisher sighed and pulled a coin purse from out of his codpiece. This made Anne dissolve into fits of giggles and Frobisher stared at his cabin boy in alarm. “Andrew! Why are you giggling? That’s not manly at all!”

“Sorry, sir!” Anne Drew coughed, trying to stop giggling and ending her spasms in a fit of sneezing. “Couldn’t help it.”

Just as Frobisher was about to, grudgingly, hand over coinage to Chastity, a booming voice came from the entrance. “Frobisher!”

Now both Anne and Frobisher cringed. The voice was none other than that of Captain John Hawkyns, rival of Captain Frobisher and supposed biological father of Anne Drew. “When I had Anne Drew sign onto your crew I expected you to make better care of her…erm…him.” Hawkyns clapped a firm hand on Anne’s shoulder. Anne cringed, she hadn’t spoken to Hawkyns since she had run away from her short stint of respectable l ife.

“Why does everyone think my cabin boy looks like a bleedin’ girl!” Frobisher whined. “This is exactly why you need hair on your chest Andrew! It’s bad enough that you like shaving your whiskers every day!”

“Is there a fire somewhere that I can get warm by?” Anne piped up, wanting to make as fast an exit from this conversation as possible.

“Bob left some clothes in my trunk upstairs.” Hawkyns gripped Anne’s arm and dragged her towards the stairs. “Get us some beer Frobisher!”

“How about payin’ me first, luv?” Chastity wrapped her arm around her favorite Captain and Anne lost sight of the two as Hawkyns led her upstairs.

Inside Captain Hawkyn’s room Anne shed her cloak and plopped herself in front of the fire to warm her frozen fingers, keeping an eye on her father. Hawkyns strode over to his trunk and threw open the lid, digging through shirts and clothing to find whatever garb Bob had left behind.

“Here, Anne.” Hawkyns handed Anne several shirts and a pair of slops. “You can have them.”

“You’re not mad, are you?”

“I would have appreciated more than a letter.” Hawkyns ruffled Anne’s hair making her wince when he hit the lump forming beneath her hair. “I didn’t really think you’d stick around long.”

“Like father like daughter?” Anne tried a smile and looked over the clothes. “You don’t need’em back?”

“Bob left with the circus!” Hawkyns growled in exasperation. “Never trust a jester Anne.”

“Can you do me a favor?” Anne began to peel off her doublet, boots, and stockings. “I told Frobisher there was free beer.”

Hawkyns laughed and ran his hand through his hair. “Now why on God’s earth would you do that?”

“Estella. Foxglove.” Anne used one of the new shirts as a tent as she switched the cold wet one for the dry linen.

“Is that how you got so wet?” Hawkyns turned around so that Anne could switch her trousers.

“Frobisher got enthusiastic and threw me in Lake Elizabeth.” Anne fumbled with the ties of the slops, but managed to get them on and slung her belt round her waist. “I’m decent.”

“Ah,” Hawkyns sighed as he turned back around to face his fiery haired offspring dressed in his old cabin boy’s garb. “You sure you still want to serve with him?”

“He might be an idiot some days, but he’s a good Captain.” Anne admitted, pulling on one of Bob’s old vests. “I think I need a drink. I’ll manage with bare feet till my boots dry out.”

“Shall we?” Hawkyns held out the door and Anne slipped past him, taking the stairs in twos back to the Christmas Party. 

Fin

I finished this only about five minutes ago, and with a quick proof read from my BestFriend Bombalurina- here you go! Hopefully tomorrow I will not procrastinate so much. I'm trying to hold myself to deadlines and learn how to write well using deadlines. I'm hoping that this isn't total rubbish. 

On the Second Day of Christmas the Dracos Gave to Me...Two (or more) Snow Balls

On the Second Day of Christmas, The Draco’s Gave To Me…Two (or more) Snow Balls. 

Anne Drew and Captain Frobisher had not gotten past the lonely maypole of Bristol, nigh unto the Towne Square Pub, when they were assailed by half a dozen well aimed snowballs. The shouts of two Draco Disciples could be heard from the pub’s balcony, namely Liam Bloodroot and Estella Foxglove.

“Happy Christmas Anne-Drew!” Estella sang out in lovelorn tones. Anne tried her best to shrink behind her Captain. Dealing with Estella, one of the few oblivious to Anne’s true gender, on any normal day was a tricky thing. Soaked to the bone from her dip in the lake and a lump forming on the side of her head, Anne wanted to get away from the infatuated villainess as soon as possible.

Captain Frobisher, ever oblivious to Anne’s plight, pushed his cabin boy in front and elbowed Anne in the ribs. “Be polite and wish Estella a Happy Christmas!”

“HappyChristmasEstella.” Anne muttered, pulling her sodden hat low over her eyes.

“Louder!” Instructed Frobisher, who seemed doomed to talk in exclamation points.

“Happy. Christmas. Estella.” Anne made to turn on her heel and was greeted with a snowball in her back from a sneaky Vinz Clortho. “Oy!” Anne drew her belaying pin on the diminutive Draco. 

“Now, now…” Vinz sneered. “Wouldn’t want to get hasty like that Anne Drew.” He might have been short, but Vinz was as sharp as a pin and as scary as a potter, whatever that might mean.

“No dueling on festival days Andrew, you know the laws.” Captain Frobisher confiscated Anne’s belaying pin. “Besides, we’ve already paid all of our taxes.”

“So why are the Dracos hitting us with snow balls?” Anne demanded.

“We couldn’t cause a blizzard in Bristol because of those confounded witches.” Liam explained. “However, we can pelt everyone with evil!”

“Snowballs?” Anne said, disbelieving. “Really? That’s what you call evil?”

“Or we could throw you in jail for cross dressing.” Vinz shrugged as he began to pack another handful of snow. Captain Frobisher looked down at his manly attire and then at his cabin boy, clearly confused as to who the Dracos might be referring.

“Andrew isn’t cross dressing!” He protested. “Just that one time he wore a skirt, and that was for a stage act! It was perfectly legal!” The Captain turned to his cabin boy, “Is there anything you aren’t telling me, Andrew?” Anne rolled her eyes and ducked to avoid another snowball coming from Estella.

“I’m hitting you with snowballs because I love you!” Estella threw another one that hit Anne on her frost covered shoulder. “Got any mistletoe Liam?”

“I’m not kissing you!” Liam protested and Estella slugged Liam in the arm.

“I wouldn’t kiss you, you ninny! I want to kiss him!” She pointed eagerly at the cringing cabin boy.  

Anne looked around for a quick escape, right now it seemed like her fate was to either freeze to death or snog Estella, and neither of those options sounded particularly appealing (no offense to Estella, she’s a lovely girl, just not Anne’s type).

“Yes Captain, there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Anne took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to turn into an icicle if I stand here any longer. We’d better hurry to the duck if we don’t want to freeze.”

Captain Frobisher balked, “Nonsense Andrew, this is much balmier than the arctic! You’re just trying to avoid Estella.”

“What if I told you that I heard word about a buy one beer get three free deal at the duck that was on a first come first serve basis to their Christmas customers?”

Captain Frobisher was already barreling ahead at the mention of free booze before Anne could finish her sentence. Never mind that Anne had fabricated the whole thing. Maybe she'd get to the duck in enough time that her extremities wouldn't freeze off.

Fin

Check tomorrow for Part 3 and Thank You All for reading!

On the First Day of Christmas, My Captain Gave to Me...A Bruise in the Serengeti

Twas Christmas In Bristol: 

Episode 1: On the First Day of Christmas, My Captain Gave to Me...A Bruise in the Serengeti (Aka Newmarket).

Anne slung her pack over her shoulder and tripped down the gangplank to the docks. “Careful there, Andrew!” Captain Frobisher barked. “You can’t get drunk before I do!”

“Not plannin’ on it sir!” AnneDrew laughed and shivered a bit as the breeze caught the gap in her cloak. Tonight was the gathering of many of the Bristol towne folk at the Dirty Duck Inn for a special Christmas feast that the Ducks had invited everyone too attend. With the promise of floozies (especially one, Chastity Trollop) and strong drink, Frobisher was not one to miss such a gathering.

Seeing the city of Bristol all covered in a light dusting of snow (everyone suspected the Weird sisters of holding off a blizzard that almost was brought down on the city by the Draco disciples) was a new sight for young Anne. Sure, London had its grey and slushy covering every late November through March, but it wasn’t anything like the six inches of pure white coating Newmarket (t’was a bit chilly to call that area the “Serengeti” at the moment).

All of a sudden, Anne found herself being hoisted and thrown off the dock and into the freezing Lake Elizabeth. Not only was this lake of icy temperature, it was also coated with a thin layer of ice. Anne came up sputtering to hear the booming laugh of her Captain.

Shivering, Anne crawled up the banks and shouted, “What was THAT for?” Her head was pounding and Anne felt a lump forming on the side of her skull. “Really Captain, we all know you’re as strong as an ox.” Anne silently added that some days, the Captain seemed as thick as one too. Anyone with a bit of sense would know better than to throw a man (or woman, in Anne’s case) off of a dock into freezing water. However, Frobisher was never one to pay attention to that governing shared consciousness called “common sense.” He’d argue that he was anything but common, and in many ways (and definitions of that word), he was right.

“You need to grow some hair on your chest!” Frobisher laughed and thumped Anne on the back. “Besides, a little water never killed anyone!”

“Hypothermia might.” Anne muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Do we have any coal Captain?...I forgot to fill one of the stockings on board ship.” Each of the crew’s members would wake on Christmas morn’ to find a stocking full of coal (and maybe a bit of paper that would count for an extra ration of ale along with some sausage). While some might find this gift a mark of a year of bad behavior, the crew was always delighted to receive such a practical gift that would keep them warm up in the arctic sea.

“That can wait Andrew, let’s get to the Duck! FOR WARD!” Frobisher shouted and with his codpiece leading the way, Captain Frobisher and AnneDrew started on their journey (dedicated to the elusive Ward) towards the Dirty Duck Inn with the promise of warm food and the possible prevention of hypothermia. 

Fin

Well that starts of my 12 Days of a Bristol Christmas series. Check tomorrow for more fun!

Evolution of Anya

Now comes the Post-Playing-Anya episode where I examine a few things about her character that I discovered while being her more than myself this weekend. I really got a serious intensive in holding a character throughout a weekend, and I can say that I am very pleased with her character since I didn't have much time to prep and explore.

Things I learned about Anya that I didn't know going into Teslacon:

1) Anya is fairly brilliant. I knew that her sister Toni was good with tinkering, but Anya's got a knack for wires and electricity floating around somewhere. Fitting that she works a switchboard, eh?

2) Anya hides her brilliance. She portrays herself as sort of a simple school girl, but if you get her talking about something she will launch into the discussion and blow everyone away by her intelligence.

3) Anya is not a simple school girl. I think the phrase I came up with as to why she got kicked out of finishing school was "I always follow the rules, there just aren't rules about certain things." Meaning, since the rules haven't been written (because the teachers never assumed certain things would happen) Anya went ahead and did whatever she liked while still following the written rules.*

4) Anya can get people to do what she wants because she is so girlish and plays up that perky innocent vibe that is just a bit infectious, and she knows she can get people to do what she wants. She's evil. She got people to start doing the thriller dance and play semaphore charades with her.

5) Anya is a bit selfish, but that was a learned trait and not something she was born with. She's willful, she was born with that. She can be kind to others and loves children. She loves her sisters but would have pushed them both over if it meant she could get the guy. Deep down she really does have a caring soul. She just loves to push the limits.

6) Anya LOVES being a girl.  She loves being a smart girl. She loves being a flirt. In some ways she reminds me a bit of the accounts of Anne Boleyn when she had just come back to the English court after her time in France.

7) She is SUCH a Slytherin.

8) Anya just does her own thing, she mocks being proper even though she knows how she should be behaving. She's loud and loves life and is a very extroverted person. She hates being bored. 

Don't think that Anya is a bad person, she's not. When it comes down to it, I think she'd vote for the good, mainly because whenever I saw the bad guy I didn't feel as drawn to that side while I was channeling Anya. She is a mischievous, cheeky, conniving little thing, and I adore her. She also does a perfect innocent face which I am EXTREMELY jealous of. I can't do an innocent face to save my life, but Anya pulled them all the live long day!
I never thought that I would be able to comfortably play someone like Anya. I think I just ended up really going with the flow and let my character take over in the best possible way. It was lovely. 
I really enjoyed being Anya for three days. I can't wait to work on her more and figure more things out about her. Heck, maybe I'll wear pink more because of Anya. I might have gotten over my aversion to that color.

Maybe....

*NOTE: There are now a lot more rules concerning the boy's school across the lake and the girls cannot interact with any of the exchange students from the boy's school. Ever. Thank you Anya.

On another note- I had the best time with the people I worked with this weekend. I got to know some friends much better and I really do love working with everyone who made up the crew of the Silver Star. I wouldn't have been able to get into character and be so comfortable with just letting go if it hadn't been for the trust I have in you and knowing that you all support me. Thank you for bringing me in so last minute and giving me this opportunity.

A price

Instead of making an account on FanFiction.net (which I have spent far too much time on during my short life). I'm going to be posting a little bit of fiction here since this is supposed to be my fiction/character/creative side blog.

I do not own any of the characters from the TV show Once Upon A Time. I simply got the urge to write about an original character who is a bit darker than my usual brand of misguided misfits. Plus, I think this type of character would be an awesome addition.

So here is a "one-shot wonder" I came up with only a few minutes ago. 

A Price

Mr. Gold’s pawnshop was a dark mess of wanted things. The red haired teenager looked around the dim room. She knew some of the objects better than Rumplestiltskin did. She’d been the one to strike those deals, after all. Petty little children’s toys that sat within glass cases. Practice cases from when she was small.

The door’s bell rang as someone else entered and the girl ducked behind the shelves, waiting to see whom it was. An auburn haired young woman with a red ribbon holding her hair back closed the door. The woman walked past all of the items in the store and to the back room. The girl followed her on light footsteps, her boots not making a single sound.

The girl watched the woman leave a package on the kitchen table, a book from the size and shape. The woman smelled like books. A librarian maybe, she had seen a library in the town on her way to Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shoppe. Using the back door, the woman left and the girl was free to explore.

Upstairs there were three bedrooms, only one of them being used. So the woman didn’t sleep here, although the second bedroom was clearly decorated for a woman. The girl could see Rumple’s design in every object. He never left anything to chance. He was meticulous down to the last detail. Except, the girl noted, for a shadow of dust on the bedside table. A cup had rested there for a long time before it was moved. The old man was getting soft. Perhaps it had something to do with that woman who left the book. What she wouldn’t trade to see what that book was.

Rumple always said that her curiosity would be her downfall.

The third bedroom was decorated for a child. A boy. Of course, Rumple had forgotten all about her. He didn’t want to remember her. No one remembered her anyway. She was a failed deal. She was supposed to have been kept hidden away, and she hadn’t been. The magic she had been cursed with marked her, as it had Rumple.

He had a son once, when he was still a coward. He never could just let things go, always had to carry a grudge, always had to get revenge. He was clever though, more so than Regina. He was clever enough to have turn a broken deal into a device, his own little spy. His errand runner. His deal maker. Everything but biological.

She crept back down to the shop to have a second look. There must be a few things of hers lying around someplace. Her knife, for instance. She could survive anything with that strapped inside her boot. Swords were so bulky and untrustworthy. Knives learnt you the way you learnt them, and worked with you as the best extension of your arm. Maybe her darts were around here as well. A girl could never be too careful.

She was so engrossed in her search that her ears pricked up a second too late. Treasure hunting was a weakness.

“Looking for something, dearie?” His voice was so much less insane here, like he actually had control of himself. Would he even recognize her now? She turned around and tilted her head, smiling at his surprised eyes.

“Hello dad.”

“Jinx.” The name scorched her, but she didn’t show it, there was power in every name.

“I’m hurt.” She simpered. “Are we at the name-calling stage already?” Jinx ran her fingers over a glass-domed clock. “Should I give you your name?”

“No need for that.” His voice was so much calmer it almost unsettled her. She knew, how well she knew, that he’d giver her anything to not use his name. “What do I call you now?”

“Wylie will suffice.” She slid onto the counter and crossed her legs, noticing the flinch he gave. He leaned on a cane. Wylie wondered how much magic he still had in this world. “A woman left a package for you in the kitchen. Nice place you’ve got now.”

The door opened and the auburn haired woman came back inside, “Rumplestilt-“ She paused, getting a first look at the red haired youth sitting on the counter as if she’d been there all her life. “Who’s this?”

“Wylie Gold, I think.” The girl turned her head to Gold, who gave the briefest of nods. “Pleased to meet you.” Oh yes, the old man did have a soft spot. Wylie wondered what would happen if this woman knew Rumple’s real name.

“Belle,” The woman provided. “Are you two related?” Belle’s gaze flickered between the two. They didn’t look much alike.

“Belle,” Mr. Gold stepped between the two women and placed his free hand on Wylie’s shoulder. He would have to recognize her now. “This is my adopted daughter, Wylie.”

Of course not biological, she was never biological. Never accepting responsibility for the fault that was his. He’d pay in time.

After all, magic always comes with a price.

Welcome Anastasia

Well I've got a new character to work with and Anne's been a bit quiet lately. I think she's taking a much deserved nap.
Or Anastasia is being a royal brat and taking over my brain, which is far more likely. I'm going to be be playing a Spaceship's Communications Officer at Tesla-con and Anya won't leave me alone!

Who is Anastasia, you ask? Well she's my new character.

Everyone meet Anastasia Newcastle.

AN:  Marian

Me: What?

AN: My middle name is Marian.

Me: All right then, Anastasia Marian Newcastle.

AN: Thank you very much!

Me: Can I continue?

AN: Please do.

Continuing on, Anastasia (or Anya), is 16 and from Benedict-on-Cumberpatch. While that is not a real place (though we wish it would be), it is near-ish London. 
Anya has grown up with her two older sisters Antionetta (Tony) and Alexandra. Tony is the ship's mechanic and Alexandra is the navigator.
Why is a 16 year old on a spaceship? Much more- how did this precocious little thing get a job of Communications Officer?

AN: Well, mummy and daddy went on holiday to Buenos Aires and so Alexandra and Tony got stuck with me and they both had jobs on this ship, the Silver Star, and I've got a bit of a knack for learning electronics. Actually, at finishing school there's a boys school across the lake and we all learned semaphores for communicating to each other. The teachers though we were just doing it for the exercise, bless them. Besides, I like talking!

Me: I've noticed...Can I have my blog back now?

AN: If you must.

Me: I really must, so shut it. As you can see she's a bit of an independent. She's also a little bit of a gossip, although she'd never spread anything truly mean. Anastasia's got a sweet heart underneath her penchant for mischief and rumor. She's also got a love of fashion and all things shiny.

AN: I LOVE PINK!!!

Me: You are not one of my characters. They never like pink!

AN: But I do! I want a BIG PINK BOW!

I'm going to go run and hide now. Anastasia shall be here for the next two weeks if you have any questions you want to ask her. 

Anne in a Dress

Instead of a Jack in the Box, an Anne in a Dress!
Just a bit of fiction I came up with around midnight of last night. It's very reminiscent of a few...erm...complications I discovered that come with wearing a farthingale. I hope you find this humorous.

“Anne Elizabeth Hawkyns!” Anne cringed at the sound of her father’s voice above her. She dropped her skirts and turned demurely on the stairs, looking at her father. Captain Sir John Hawkyns was leaning against the railing of the stair landing, a slightly bemused expression on his face.

“Aye, father?” Anne blinked innocently. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to tell that she had been climbing the stairs with her skirts hiked up nearly to her knees. Hawkyns’ was not to be fooled by his daughter’s charade. Anne was having a bit of a hard time adjusting to her new life as a privileged daughter of a knight. The cumbersome weight of her skirts made her feel both beautiful and restricted. Only a few days ago Anne had tried moving over a bench (something she would have easily jumped over in her lad’s clothing) and had to get help when her farthingale trapped her in place. Even the clothing she had worn growing up was much simpler than the finery Hawkyns had procured for her. The clothing was sometimes the least of Anne’s troubles.

“Ladies don’t bring their skirts up so high when ascending the stairs.” Hawkyns admonished with a grin. Anne knew that he was being lenient. “Where is Elizabeth?” She couldn’t go anywhere without an escort now, where as a lad she had been able to come and go as she pleased. Anne looked down the stairs and failed to see the other red haired girl that had been behind her only moments before. Elizabeth Cecil, the daughter of Lord Burghley, had befriended Anne within minutes of being introduced. Elizabeth, while studious and much better bred than Anne, had her own streak of mischief and fire in her.

“She was just behind me.” Anne replied loudly, hoping that her friend was within earshot.

“I’m here!” Elizabeth’s voice came through the door as she pushed the heavy oak. “They didn’t catch us! I had to see if one of my father’s spies was…” She looked up and spotted Hawkyns, and Anne’s warning facial expression. “Good day Captain.” Elizabeth smoothly floated up the stairs, hardly raising her skirt. Anne let out a long sigh. Why did Elizabeth have to be so good at all of these feminine things?

“I thought my daughter had lost you, Lady Elizabeth.” Hawkyns observed after reverencing. “What sort of mischief are you two young ladies getting in to?”  

“All sorts.” Elizabeth laughed. “But aren’t you a pair of my father’s eyes and ears as well?” Anne bit her lip to conceal her laughter. Even laughing was painful in these corsets and bodices. Of course Hawkyns was a spy, he’d been a double agent as well.

“I had thought you to be a positive influence on my daughter.” Hawkyns chuckled. Anne felt light headed and leaned against the rail of the stair, frowning. “Are you all right, Anne?”

“It’s this damn dress.” Anne muttered, earning a stern look from her father. “You never said anything about my language when I was the ship’s boy!” Anne pressed her side as the lightheadedness passed.

“I’ll take her to sit down for a while.” Elizabeth led Anne up the stairs towards Elizabeth’s rooms in Lord Burghley’s estate.

Almost out of earshot of Hawkyns, Anne turned to Elizabeth and with complete seriousness uttered, “I want my trousers back.” Hawkyn’s laughter at Anne’s words could be heard throughout the house. 

Fin

 

Stronghold, Friday.

Wow, it's been quite a while since I posted on this blog. I'm back with a tale of how I became a Maid of Honor for one weekend at the Stronghold Olde English Faire.

Friday evening I got to Stronghold around 8pm-ish (emphasis on the ish part because I can’t really recall). I couldn't really see what the scenery surrounding the castle looked like (other than lots of trees, which made me really happy because I love woods and forests and such).

I knew Stronghold was a castle, but I didn’t expect to be so enthralled by the castle itself. I must have had bug eyes when I first entered. After dropping off my bags in the great hall and saying hello to a few people I must have spent half an hour running around exploring with some of the other kids. There’s just something about castles that makes me really happy inside. I love old houses, and this place was MASSIVE! It had a tower, a fairy tale room with the story of Rumplestiltskin painted on the wall, an amazing Great Hall, just so many things that I loved. I was told that I had little sparkles of fairy dust following me around. I probably did I was so excited. It didn’t take me too long to figure out my way around, but the floor plan was pretty straight forward. There was a secret passageway from the library to a chapel, it was really easy to find (maybe I just think too much about how to hide secret passages).

Apart from seeing the castle, I was just so happy to see all of my Ren Friends again. Everything about these people puts me at ease and makes me feel at home. I was a little nervous just because I had no idea how to be  “nobility” but I knew that there would be plenty of people to teach me. Thank goodness, because otherwise I would have felt very ill at ease. As it was, most of my decorum was tossed out the window when I learned of the expectation of the Maids of Honor was to get into as much trouble as possible without being over the top.

Only a few days before Stronghold I found out that I’d be portraying Lady Elizabeth Cecil, Lord Burghley’s daughter. I wasn’t able to find to much information about her in the little time I had, but I was able to glean more information from the people at Stronghold. One little change we made was making me a Maid of Honor for the weekend, even though Elizabeth Cecil was never a MOH.

Ever since I’ve been going to the Ren Faire, I’ve loved watching the nobles. Part of it is the history, but I also look for new the dresses each year. I felt bad for staring but those dresses are so beautiful! AND I GOT TO WEAR ONE!!! One of my childhood dreams was fulfilled. I got to wear a court dress.

It was beautiful. Green and orange and rust/brown with trimming and beading and amazingness. Getting dressed itself was an adventure and the whole time I was praying that the dress would fit me. It actually fit very well for not being made to my exact measurements, but I had no idea what I looked like until I stepped out and got a look at myself in the hallway mirror.

I didn’t know what to do for a few minutes. I couldn’t look at myself, I felt so pretty. The other girl who was going to be a maid of honor with me was equally excited/impressed/taken aback by her own dress. We had a little “procession” into the great hall to show everyone and the reaction just completely befuddled me. I said “I’ve never felt so pretty in my life, and my prom dress was beautiful.”

Then I learned a little bit of a court dance, and I learned how to walk. Or rather, I was told how to walk and just picked up how to hover right off the bat. I also learned that when a lady is sitting on the ground she waits for a gentleman to help her up before she stands. I think Anne might need to pick up that habit simply because it would be funny.

Most of Friday night I just spent talking to people and having some fun being back around everyone. Even though I didn’t really know most of the people because I am not apart of St. George, everyone was nice and down-to-earth.

Falling asleep Friday night was sort of difficult because of the smoke in the Great hall. Apparently the chimney isn’t that great, so there was a fair amount of smokiness. It usually only takes me a couple of minutes to drop off to sleep. Friday night it almost took me an hour and a half, and I woke up every few hours. However, Saturday was going to prove to be quite the adventure. I’ll write about that tomorrow.

Anne's Log- The Reveal!

Anne tried desperately to crawl out of the grave she’d now dug for herself.

“But Captain!” She protested with more than an edge of desperation in her voice, “I didn’t mean too!”

Only moments before had Anne blundered into a game of Towers that Captain Frobisher was about to win. Now Captain Hawkyns and Captain Drake were splitting the money that Captain Frobisher didn’t have. Anne picked herself up from amid the blocks she had toppled over with and scooted away from her irate employer.

“I don’t care!” Captain Frobisher roared. Anne dashed in between the other captains, using them as a buffer. She wondered why she had let the Captain into the wine so early in the morning, even if it was a festival day. “Get back over here!”

Anne slowly trod towards her captain, ready to duck and cover or run as fast as her legs could carry her. Captain Frobisher had lifted men bigger than her clear over his head and tossed them off the ship. “It is a festival day, Captain.” Anne said hopefully, “Mayhap we can simply forget about this?” It was a stretch and Anne knew it.

“Certainly not.” Captain Frobisher insisted. “I’m revoking your land privileges and you’re going to get ten lashes.”

Anne steeled herself. She could take a whip so long as the captain didn’t find out she was a girl. “Administered by whom?” She couldn’t help the quaver in her voice.

Captain Frobisher looked at Anne like it was the most idiotic question in the world. “Me!”

Flailing around for words Anne sputtered out “But you can’t!”

“What do you mean I can’t! I’m the captain! You’ve got to learn to take punishment like a man, I’ve been much too lax on you.”

Anne looked to Hawkyns and Drake. Hawkyns seemed ready to jump into action, but as always he waited to see what Anne would do. Anne had told him in no uncertain terms that she could take care of herself.

“But Captain!”

“What?” Captain Frobisher was already starting to walk away from the towers. “Come on, I haven’t got all day.”

Anne tried to find an excuse, “It’ll ruin my shirt!” Was all that she could come up with?

“That doesn’t matter- you don’t need it anyway, Andrew!” Captain Frobisher stared at Anne with annoyance. “Just take it off now!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”  Captain Frobisher pulled at Anne’s arm. “You’re not going to get any blood on it. Act like a man, Andrew!”

“I’m a girl!” Anne blurted. Everything seemed to stand still for a moment.

Captain Frobisher blinked. “What?”

Anne looked to Drake, who looked astonished. Then she looked to Hawkyns, who looked a little surprised. Then she looked back her Captain, who looked skeptical. “I’m a girl, Captain.”

“You lied to me!”

“Not technically.” Anne wheedled. “I never said I wasn’t a girl.”

“I distinctly told you girls are bad luck on ships!” Captain Frobisher protested.

Anne nodded, “But you never asked if I was a girl.”

“Naturally I assumed you’d be a boy!”

“Martin.” Hawkyns interrupted. “Do you recall my cabin boy ‘Bob?’”

Captain Frobisher gaze Hawkyns the same annoyed look he had given Anne moments earlier. “Of course! Rather rubbish of you keeping a girl on board.”

“I had my reasons.”

“We all knew your reasons.” Anne couldn’t help herself. Hawkyns gave her a cautioning glance.

“Glass houses, Anne.”

“WAIT!” Frobisher burst between the two. “Anne-Drew.” He looked at Anne in shock. “That’s a boy’s name!”

Captain Hawkyns rolled his eyes and stepped in between the increasingly outraged Frobisher and the petrified Anne. “Oh, come now, Martin.”

“You’re not just getting a whipping!” Frobisher yelled. “I think a good old fashioned keelhauling is in order.”

Hawkyns put his hand protectively on Anne’s shoulder. “As Anne’s father, I take responsibility for her actions and forbid you to touch her.”

Anne and Frobisher looked at Hawkyns in disbelief. “Father?” In reality, thought Anne might have played her cards to gain a little from each Captain by teasing how they might be her father, she had no idea which of these famous captains her father was.

Hawkyns’ pulled a piece of paper out of his doublet and handed it to Anne. “That is my signature, isn’t it?”

Anne glanced at the paper,

I, Father Peter of the church of England, do provide witness to the baptismal and christening of this child, Anne Drew, born to John Hawkyns, Captain, and Fanny Drew, a most common woman, on the seventh day of September anno domino 1556. While this child is not of a legitimate union, both parties do recognize parentage and accept responsibility of this child and do claim the child to be their own.

Witnessed By

Father Peter

Fanny Drew               John Hawkyns

            “While your mother might have had copies of this particular letter.” Hawkyns raised an eyebrow at Anne, who almost blushed from embarrassment. “I do claim you as my child, since it seems that you finally have gotten yourself into a scrape you can’t get out of.”

“John!” Captain Frobisher sputtered, trying to make sense of everything that he had learned in the last three minutes. “This doesn’t make any sense!”

“What doesn’t make sense Captain?” Anne asked exasperatedly. Hawkyns gave her a look that told her to let him do the talking.

Frobisher looked at the ground in an attitude of deep thought. “Wait…” He said as he put two and two together, “You’ve been a girl this whole time.”

“Yes.”

“How many people knew?”

“Everyone but you Captain.” Anne grumbled. It hadn’t been her plan.

“Am I really that thick?”

“Come along Anne.” John Hawkyns held out his hand to his newly recognized daughter. “Let’s go get your things from the ship, you need to get some women’s clothes.”

“I don’t own any.” Anne winced at the thought of losing the freedom that trousers and a doublet had given her. “What about the Captain?”

“He’ll work it out eventually.”

Anne looked over her shoulder at the dumb-struck Captain Frobisher. To be honest she didn’t have much of an understanding of what just happened either. Still, something inside of her leapt with joy that she belonged to someone.

However, something inside her said that her adventures had only just begun. She’d need to keep her boy clothes around just in case.

What now?

The last weekend has come and gone. 

Saturday I turned into an "Annesicle" because it rained, I got soaked, and then my core got cold. It still was a lot of fun! I also graduated BAPA and laughed more in one night than I have in a long time.
Sunday was my "bad" day. On the street I was okay, but off-street things just weren't going right for me. I had some great times getting to out Anne and finally get my father (there will be a coming fiction post). I also got to be a girl for an hour and I loved the interactions and reactions I got from patrons and cast members.

Then came Monday. The last day. I could not have asked for a better last day to my first year.
I saw the most beautiful sunrise that morning. There was morning mist burning away as the orange sun rose up slowly. I almost started crying right then and there, but I knew I had a whole day to get through and by golly I wasn't going to break just yet.
All I wanted was some time with the characters and people I've come to love as my family, and that's exactly what I got to do all day long.
The funny thing was that I came up with something new on the last day- Anne translates for the Captain while he is saving his voice so he can sing. 
Each time I did something for the "last time" I felt a sense of finality and peace mixed with each other. Everything was like saying goodbye to an old friend. I broke during the afternoon sea shanties when singing Frobisher Bay and Leave her Johnny. I knew that Leave her Johnny would probably mess with me, but Frobisher Bay was a complete surprise.
What really broke me was closing gate. During "Let Union Be" I looked over at Pony and saw her crying. We ended up finishing the song with our arms around each other and almost weeping. Then, as if I wasn't already a hot mess, Lord L came out and recited the ending monologue from A Midsummer Night's Dream. It's one of my favorite monologues and I was sobbing through the whole thing.
I collected myself only long enough to fall apart again as I marched through a backstage lined with all of my friends singing "Health to the Company." I joined the line and tried to sing, but I had no voice. I just couldn't sing. I got so many hugs, hands claps, and nods from people. I couldn't have asked for a better ending.

Now here comes my version of mush. I don't really do mush, so you all get my "Kait" brand of mush. I was able to write a few notes to some people, but not nearly enough. Those notes held about as much mush as I can muster up. I wouldn't have been able to say those worlds to anyone's face.
I never thought I could fall in love with so many people so fast. I really do love you all like my family. You've given me so much, I don't know how to repay you other than to say a deeply meant "Thank You" and a very strong hug with all of my feelings poured into it, hopefully you'll understand how much you mean to me.

Now onto the practical side of things.
What do I do with this blog? 
It will not be shut down. There shall (maybe) be the occasional Anne post. I am turning this blog into my writer's/historical/rennie fun blog. I will still be keeping up with my personal blog (it might not be as interesting, but I want to be faithful in my journalism of this part of my life).

What will I go onto next? 
Well- there's always making my ren faire costumes. I'm working on making an Anne-like costume as well as creating a girl costume. This means I'll have to learn how to sew properly.
I have school and work too keep me occupied, as well as dance classes that start next week.
I have a bunch of new friends that I need to keep in contact with, because I don't want to wait 8-9 months to talk to them again.
I'm planning on auditioning for a few things this year. Overshadowed productions is holding auditions for Little Women on Sept. 17th and I've gotten involved with my college's theater club.

What about next year's Faire? 
As far as I am planning- Anne shall be back! Mayhap she'll have a few tweaks here and there. This year I was just able to start understanding how Street Works. I've already got a few ideas that I want to flesh out and play around with. What havoc will Anne create for the Captain? You'll have to come back next year!

 I look at where I was, and where I am now, and I am very different. I hope it's for the better, because I like myself more today than how I was three months ago. I am going to have some withdrawal over the next few weeks, bit if I've learned anything over this past year it's been that I can pick myself up and carry on. Some days it's not fun, but this year I don't feel so alone as I did last year.

Thank you.

Oh Captains, My Captains

This weekend Anne will finally have her father.
Not that she hasn't had the BEST group of dads a girl could ask for during the season, but let me explain.
I've had the time of my life taunting and "blackmailing" the Captains into thinking that Anne is their child. Some of my favorite bits are just dragging people into the absurdity of my story because patrons have said some pretty crazy things. However, as time went on, Anne started to feel a bit lonely at her uncertain familial status.
Stupid me letting my character run away and develop a bit too much, but Anne really wants to belong to someone. Not just speculation and half serious ownership on the part of the Captains, but someone who would take Anne in. Not Andrew, but Anne.
Amazing the things I learn about human nature. How basic is this feeling of wanting to belong to someone? To have a father who cares about you and calls you his own (even if you are a girl). Fathers are SO important. Note the underline/italicize/boldface.

I am lucky to have a father who loves me and my real life Daddy and I have a great relationship. He read me novels like Tom Sawyer and To Kill a Mockingbird when I was little and introduced me to Star Wars and the Blues Brothers. Almost every year throughout Jr. High and Highschool we've gone to a father/daughter date night that our church organizes. My dad flew with me down to Florida so I could audition for the dance program at a college and we spent about three days exploring Palm Springs.
I have a fantastic real life Dad.

To all the Captains (and other seafaring gentleman) at the Faire- 
You have all been like Uncles, Brothers, and Cousins to me. Through you I have learned to hold my own place, because you are a hard group to break into and hold your own in. I've had to keep my wits about me and be ready to figure out some way to tie up loose ends and loopholes so that you ALL have to acknowledge the fact that Anne just might be your child. You've taught me about maritime history and how to act like a man (or at least ham it up).

Thank you for taking in a girl to your world of men and really bringing me into your circle when I thought I might just be hanging out on the outskirts, not wanting to intrude. Whoops- wouldn't you know it? I intruded and hung up my hammock to stay!

I already know who Anne's real father is. Part of it came down to the fact that I'm a historical nut and this person made the most sense historically.
I want you all to know, that even if you aren't my dad (I'm still trying to keep this a surprise, otherwise I'd be frank), I consider all of you like family to me and love you all like Uncles and Brothers. I'd say you've been like Fathers to me, but my daddy already fills that space in my heart. Thank you all for the best summer of my life.

I can't wait to see what this last weekend will bring in the way of shenanigans. You have been warned from your trouble making "son." AnneDrew.

My family

So, apart from my VERY dysfunctional character family (Think Mamma Mia in Elizabethan England), I have found the most amazing family in the people that I work with.

Let's see....
I've found a few mother and father type figures, several siblings, aunts and uncles- not to mention those awkward cousins who I wonder if I'm really related to but I love anyway so I must be related to them.

This Sunday I woke up after a MARVELOUS Saturday and my world crashed down around me. My Grandpa Jones will never be able to see what I've done in Ren Faire. I can't tell him (physically) about how much I've learned or what my plans are or how amazing all of these people are.

For anyone who doesn't know by now, summer after my junior year in high School, June 21, my Grandpa died.
Our birthdays are one day apart. I like to think that my Grandpa and I had a special bond. There were a lot of things about him that I didn't realize we had in common until I heard about them at his funeral.
I miss him a lot. I know that his passing when he did was probably a good thing and spared him a lot of pain. He had senior dementia and it was hard for all of us. Whenever I hear bagpipes I think of him, and owls are sort of symbolic of my Grandpa. He carved the most beautiful things out of wood and owls were one of his favorites.

So I go up to Ren Faire really just trying to keep myself together. During morning meeting I drew an owl in my Captains Log and tried to keep it together. Then I went back to the green room and tried to keep myself together. I'm pretty good at shutting everything off and keeping myself together. I tried to bring out my character when playing Towers with Hawkyns and Frobisher, but it really wasn't working. This is what happens when I shut down. Non-functional not good stuff. I was ready to label the day as a "fake it till you make it" type day.
I ended up backstage in the Pole Barn just needing some space to breathe and possibly cry. One of my friends who plays Jinx the over sized Jester asked if I wanted to talk and was very nice when I couldn't really bring myself to do so because I knew I'd pretty much lose it. John came in and I got asked again if I wanted to talk about it. By this time I had my hat over my head and pulled low over my face because I was starting to cry.

Let's get another thing straight. I don't cry easily. Some people will cry at the drop of a hat. I used to have a complex where I saw crying as being weak, but only if I was the one crying. I'm over that but I still don't cry easily.
I can't lie to these people. I just can't. It's pretty much impossible for me to be dishonest around any of the rennies because if I was I'd feel so awful I'd rat myself out. So I started to talk about how I miss my Grandpa. I wish I could tell him things without talking to the air. I knew there would be certain milestones in life that he won't be there for (like my wedding), but I wasn't expecting to be upset that I can't tell him about Faire. I'm sure I said a few other things but your brain gets foggy and your nose gets rather stuffy when you're crying.

John and Jinx were great. They gave me support and didn't try to say "I understand." John actually made a point of saying that he doesn't know what I'm feeling, but he's lost people too and we do go through these moments. He said that Ren Faire is probably the safest and most supporting place to have a moment like the one I was having.
They said how proud they were of me, and how proud they know my Grandpa is of me. Even if I can't see him, he can see me, which I do believe (still sucks on my end of the deal). Then Lettuce came in and asked who she needed to kill and sat with us for a little while as I finished calming down and we had a good laugh about how these types of moments never happen when it's convenient. 

The first rehearsal for Street Cast I went too, I was sitting by myself on the benches before things started. I heard an owl hooting.









Just as a side note- the rest of my dad was fantastic and I had so many laughs and fun times. This summer has passed too quickly. Thank you to all of my family in RenFaire. I don't think I've been able to trust people so much or so quickly as I have with all of you. I can't wait for the next two weekends and the new adventures they will bring.