Speirling Isles, Caledon firth

September 14, 2007 at 11:17 pm (Caledon, celebrations, original poetry/prose, the Muse sings)

The Lady looks out, out over the water, gaze stretching far and farther like the light back up to the sun. The trees ring this isle, gently swaying in the breeze. They listen as she muses…

I think that the seas were somehow always there, and the islands too. Were they all hidden beneath the placid waveless waves, or do we only see them now because we can reach them at last?

Having reached them, finding them uninhabited, and so close to Caledon’s shores, we claimed them. None but the seabirds and butterflies to notice. And, within minutes… friends, Caledonians, music and dancing… and the islands were quickly warmed by revelry.

Are these the lands the Vulgarian Ambassador claimed we were usurping? Are they rightly theirs?

On such a gloriously beautiful day as today, with the sun shining, the wind favourable, can we actually be bothered to worry on that?

Caledon Firth from Speirling

No… we have magik, and cannons, and the will to remain here.

Caledon Highlands from Speirling

we have eaten

the islands
that were in
the firth

forgive us
they are delicious
so sweet
and so wet

Caledon Stormhold from Speirling

the view of Caledon from above the twinned marquessates of Caledon Speirling

the Most Honourable the Marquise of West Speirling Isle,
Darkling Elytis,
am building someplace for us all to chill out. All gentles are welcome. It is my hope that you would enjoy the open firth south of Caledon Stormhold and moor your craft at the dock. Should you wish it, do join me; lounge on silk pillows and dance on thick rugs in a comfortable place beneath dark, sheltering trees.
Please, call me Lady Speirling, Marquise or Marchioness, or simply Darkling.
Sip carefully at whatever drink is served; whether tea or faerie wine, you can be sure it is potent.

Sharing Speirling with me are my dear friends,
the Most Honourable the Marquise of East Speirling Isle,
Baroness of BardHaven,
Kirawill Collingwood

and her husband,
the Most Honourable the Marquis of East Speirling Isle,
Baron of BardHaven,
Zealot Benmergui.

East Speirling Isle is itself named Illyria, a peaceful, magikal isle, with strange and colourful flora.

Speirling means “thunderstorm” in the Gaelic tongue… perhaps the two islands were once one, and split by a lightning strike. Both Speirling Isles bear the broken columns of ancient structures. Who can say what mysteries lie buried within this, our land? I am hoping it includes jewels and unspoilt rum.

There will be an official revel to celebrate these glad additions to Caledon, oh yes. Soon.

After that… are we to hold Court? Must we wear bustles and shoes? Shall we have a militia to march the marks?

Caledon Speirling Isles



  1. Mare Novi said,

    The strait between the two isles just cries out for a magnificent bridge arcing across it.

  2. DarklingRose said,

    Miss Novi,
    I quite agree. If we can but find (or better yet, create) a design that appeals to all our eye, and does not hinder ship passage, we might build just that.
    Until that day come, I recommend the hilariously promethean sport of strait-leaping. It’s like bull-leaping, except that under ~most~ weather conditions, the strait does not rear up and try to gore the leaper.

  3. Diamanda Gustafson said,

    What about an undersea tunnel or passage, complete with sea world magic?

  4. DarklingRose said,

    That is an ambitious project, Lady Dia… I have my kelpie engineers surveying the possibilities even now.

    Only, don’t tell anyone; if we build something like that, we’ll make it sekrit.

  5. Her Grace, Eva Bellambi said,

    Fantastic! I cannot wait to take off my shoes and stockings and squiggle my toes in the sands or walk the moss covered ground with you, the Baroness, and the Baron. Then sit us down on silk cushions and take a dram of whisky, a cup of tea, or perhaps a wee bit of absinthe or two.
    Congratulations my friends. It is beautiful!

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