hola_melanippe: (Default)
I was honoured to build Roma's contribution to the Aether Chrononauts-Tiny Steps team campsite - and it can be seen here!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Leqa2UkFNzo

He comes up on our camp around 21 minutes in.


hola_melanippe: (Default)
The Veneralia was the Festival of Venus, honoured in Her aspect as Venus Verticordia, "The Changer of Hearts". This festival was primarily to petition Venus for support and aid in one's love-life.

After the rite, Venus invites you to Her romantic al fresco (all'aperto) banquet, where we'll share food and have readings of love poetry as well...


Did you know that Google produces no useful results at all for 'Amazons' love poetry'?

To be more precise: amazons love poetry -site:amazon.com -site:amazon.co.uk -site:amazon.* -site:pinterest.*

Hmph.

I did find a few things to save here, though:

To the Amazons at Epídauros )

46 The Modern Day Amazon )

...and then there was this book of an epic poem with a 20th century woman facing cancer, and a Scythian girl facing the invading Greeks, but that was not aetheric, merely listed for sale.
hola_melanippe: (Profile at Hypatia)
by Raymond A. Foss

(This is for Clio - M.)

Expectantly, asking where she was
She was eight, at that point, in that year
my long-dead ancestor
alive again in this child
running in the yard
with the other players
on this tiny stage set
Reflecting history
that was, in our past
a slice of time, our common struggle
to form this place
free to worship
as conscience dictates
hola_melanippe: (Profile at Hypatia)
by William Carlos Williams, 1913

(This one is for Urania - M.)

The Archer is wake!
The Swan is flying!
Gold against blue
An Arrow is lying.
There is hunting in heaven--
Sleep safe till to-morrow.

The Bears are abroad!
The Eagle is screaming!
Gold against blue
Their eyes are gleaming!
Sleep!
Sleep safe till to-morrow.

The Sisters lie
With their arms intertwining;
Gold against blue
Their hair is shining!
The Serpent writhes!
Orion is listening!
Gold against blue
His sword is glistening!
Sleep!
There is hunting in heaven--
Sleep safe till to-morrow.
hola_melanippe: (Profile at Hypatia)

by Mike Essig
They really are a hard group to work for. No dental insurance either. Cheap hussies.


Well hello, sweet Muses.
How nice of you to drop by
at four in the morning.


Let me make you some tea.


How are you all today?


Oh, I forgot for a moment
that you are goddesses
and are always
exactly as you should be.


I'm fine except my sleep
has become oddly contrary.


But you all know that and more.


You are the magic that
stirs my dreams until
I give up and get up.


You betray me to nightmares,
insomnia, memories and poems
that could certainly wait
for morning if you so desired.


And where have you all been?


For three years, you've been gone
and I have been left mute.


Such fickle bitches you are,
only bestowing your favors
according to your whims.


But we have all, back to Homer,
known how unfaithful you can be.


Now you've returned and I can't sleep.


You know I'm not so young
as the last time you visited.


I need a little rest occasionally,
but you are working me to death
as if no time at all has passed.


There should be a union for poets.


Of course, I will do your bidding as usual.


Calliope, Clio, Euterpe,
Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore,
Polyhymnia and sweet demanding Erato.


It's nice to see you all again,
all so lovely and immortal,


but please remember I am only a man
and a man can only take so much.


So please, try not to show up before 8 AM.

hola_melanippe: (Default)
Themiscyran split from Greek fairly early on, retaining some of the obsolete characters and accenting later Hellenic Greek/Attic Greek discarded, and which modern Greek doesn't even remember. One of these is the 'rough-breathing' sound of H, which has been represented during some transcription periods as 'hēta' (see depiction in link) and was eventually reduced to a diacritic mark. (Hēta always precedes an upsilon (Υ/υ).) Ionian Greek reduced this to ēta (Η/η) and changed the symbolised sound.

One interjection which is shared between most Indo-European languages is the vocative 'O', which has been defined as an 'expression of earnestness or reverence, used before the name of a deity or revered person in impassioned speech.' The later Ionian/Athenian speech spelled this with an omega (Ω/ω). Among the Amazons, with their culture of general mutual respect, this became an all-purpose greeting, spoken with a 'rough breathing' vowel, and spelled:

Ⱶ ο (heta-omicron), , or

...depending on the transliterator.

λα, or 'la', is an intensifier. ολα (omicron-lambda-alpha) also can translate as 'all' (or 'whole' - a subtle distinction and one which usage may have caused to drift), as a plural neutral vocative - therefore, greeting multiples or collectively. After some use, Ⱶολα became a colloquial greeting in the Themiscyran dialect, the approximate equivalent of the modern Southern American casual 'Hi, y'all!'

The Roman-alphabet transliteration is 'hola', a slightly unfortunate homonym to the Spanish greeting in spelling and nearly in pronunciation. Curiously, it may have somewhat similar origins and date back to proto-Indo-Europan at the very tips of its roots.

See also: http://www.fileformat.info/info/unicode/char/370/index.htm

Aside from the 'tack form', , hēta may also be written as , , , — or the confusing or which look too much like Norse runes for convenience. It's bad enough everyone assumes this is Spanish.
hola_melanippe: (Relaxation at Annex)
During this Sunday's Collegia booth duty off the main square, I was a little horse.

hola_melanippe: (Flight over Tritonis)
Jenny Everywhere told me about how her latest page was for a man named Mike Meyers, whose gentle and generous nature was preyed upon by a scoundrel, who stole Mike's lifelong Superman memorabilia collection.

The first wonderful part is that comics fans all over who heard about this immediately started sending Mike all sorts of new Superman things to help make up for his loss. Art jams at conventions, donations from comics shops, all sorts of things.

Then an update - the fiend who stole the collection was caught! Mike's collection was returned to him! And the wonderful things that people sent him, he'll be sharing with others to make them feel as good as he did when he got the first package.

The gods send us lessons in many ways. We must develop the wisdom to learn from them, however.
hola_melanippe: (Spear of Amazonia)
I have been allowed to return home temporarily; I have been spending most of my time in the temple of Athena, praying for her enlightenment on the cruelty, shallowness and apathy of those in the Patriarchs' World.
hola_melanippe: (Shield of Themiscyra)
Lots going on, but documenting it seemed less important. I did want to share something, a poem the Muses inspired me to craft for the Ludi Apollinares festival.

Pray with profound thanks to our gods for being.
Pray and hail! Bold Artemis, Hestia;
Pray to wise Athena and Aphrodite;
Pray to Demeter.

Hail my Queen, one blessed by the gods and sisters.
Hail to her who saves us from Ares' altar.
Hail and praise, Hippolyta, subjects' saviour.
Hail to you, great one.

Praise Princess Diana, the blesséd daughter.
Praise the Gods' Ambassador: Message offered.
Praise the hero! Patriarchs' World gives honour.
Praise clay-born Favoured!

Honour sisters, Amazons old and new-born.
Honour Sent Forth, Guardians, priests and war-sworn.
Honour women Patriarchs’ World keeps forlorn.
Honour feminine potence!


(For those technically inclined, it's ἀναφορά, an anaphora with Sapphic metre; the stanzas have loose terminal rhyming except for the first, and each is linked to the next by the anaphoric word.)
hola_melanippe: (Default)
I should very much like to throw a tantrum right now, but it would neither be seemly or responsible.
hola_melanippe: (Shield of Themiscyra)
Pages 46-47 of this particular version:

Turn towards the rising sun and traverse plains
That have not felt the plough ; thus shalt thou reach
The nomade tribes of Scythia, who, sublime,
Inhabit wicker dwellings, raised upon
The rolling wheels of chariots, armed with bows
Potent to send the feathered shaft afar:
— Approach not them, but pass their territory
On the resounding shore, which closely keep!
The Chalybes upon thy left reside,
A savage and inhospitable race.
Who temper the rude iron — these avoid!
Thus shalt thou reach the stream, not falsely named
Hybristes, haughty river ; nor mayst thou
Attempt its tide, that does not easily
Afford a passage, until at the foot
Of Caucasus, the highest mountain ridge,
Thou stand, from whose imposing summit, down
The river vehemently breathes its rage;
Ascending its bare top, that rises high
In neighbourhood of the stars, thou must attain
Beyond, a southern path, and gain the land
Of man-detesting, warlike Amazons,
Inhabitants of Themiscyra's plain,
Upon the bank of Thermodon, where opes
Rude Salmydesia her dread jaws marine,
Hateful to seamen, with a step-dame's care
Their shattered barks protecting.
Readily The Amazons will guide thee on thy way.
Next the Cimmerian isthmus thou shalt reach,
And narrowing portals of the ocean-lake:
Leaving the shore, with resolute heart, thou must
Pass the Mæotic strait, and in the world
Thy passage shall be celebrated ever,
And the surname of Bosphorus be given,
Commemorative of the deed.
hola_melanippe: (Shield of Themiscyra)

From Rotten Tomatoes:
Photo by Matthew McDaniel:
And from here:
hola_melanippe: (Flight over Tritonis)
Although it is not in service of the Five as we know them, I am being raised to the Roman priestly title of 'flaminia discipula' today at 2 PM, and will dedicate my service to Artemis and Hecate. I would love to have my sisters present for this ceremony, and any other friends who would like to join us.
hola_melanippe: (Relaxation at Annex)
Things like winning the tournament a fortnight ago, and being made Legionaire of the Month; and being told I might be promoted to Flamina in the Collegia... and taking my sisters from Klaus's Consulate on a treasure hunt (that was for the Ludi Plebii, and Xandra especially seemed to enjoy herself).... I know I'm forgetting things.

I do have pictures. Somewhere. The scribes and artisans have chipped away at the blank marbles, and they're here somewhere.

But for now, I bring you a holiday poem by Angelia, the Vestalia Maxima, who has a gift for language:


The Night Before Christmas - SL ROMA Style

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through SL
Not a sound file playing, not even a bell.
The sculpted stockings were hung in the Tavern with care
In hopes that Nick Linden soon would be there.

The avatars were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of prim swag danced in their heads.
And I in my toga and new pashmina wrap
Had just logged out of ROMA for a bit of a nap.

When out on the parcel there arose such a clatter
I logged back in real quick to see what was the matter.
The SL icon I double-clicked in a flash
Clicked the Login button and prayed for no crash.

The torch light on the surface of newly rezzed snow
Made it blindly bright because there was too much glow.
When what on my 20 inch LCD should appear
But a sculptie sleigh, and eight prim reindeer.

With a costumed Av clothed as red as a brick
I knew in a moment he was dressed as St. Nick.
More rapid than chariots, his coursers they came
And he emoted and gestured, and shouted their names:

"Now, Newbie! Now, Pole Dancer! Now, Gor Master and Dom Vixen!
On, Griefer! On Spammer! On Lagger and Linden!
To the top of the Market! On top of the mall!
Now fly away! Fly away! Fly away all!"

As particle effects from the volcano fly
So did Nick Linden, shooting up to the sky.
So up to Trajan's Market the coursers they flew
With a sleigh full of prim gifts, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard from the roof
The familiar sounds of a Teleport poof.
As I clicked with my mouse to turn my cam 'round
There right behind me Nick rezzed on the ground.

He was dressed in color change fur, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all covered with particle soot.
A sack of boxed gifts he had flung on his back
And he looked like just a mall queen coming back from the rack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! (bling script by Jon Perry)
His cheeks were like roses! (texture - Amy Whiteberry)
His avatar's mouth was drawn up like a bow
And the beard of his chin was textured white as the snow.

A well-sculpted pipe he held tight in his teeth
And the particle smoke was 'round his head like a wreath.
He had a thin face but a large sculptie belly
That bounced when he moved like a bowlful of jelly.

He was oddly familiar, with ears like an elf,
And I laughed when I saw it, it was Torin himself!
A tired look in his eye and a pose of his head
Soon gave me to know he should be in bed.

But he typed not a word, and went straight to his work
And edited the stockings, and then seemed to perk.
He animated a smile and a hug pose
And giving a nod, to the rooftop he rose.

He sat on his sleigh, and played the sound of a whistle
And away they all flew, just like a missile.
But I heard him voice chat, as he left my cam sight
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
hola_melanippe: (Warrior in Consulate)
But this wonderful quote from here deserved quick sharing:

Second Life is infested with flees.
Flees are people who take from the game, and create annoyance for others, to make themselves happy.
They piss in the well, and want to charge for not pissing in the well.


(She's talking about ad-farm owners, but that applies to so many, doesn't it?)
hola_melanippe: (Flight over Tritonis)
First, or of a greater priority to all, the Legio, my Roman sisters, are part of Roma Pro Vita, raising money for the Relay for Life. One of the events for this was a challenge ludus between the Legio as a whole and the Gladiator School. One of the Amazons (only one, sadly) participated! Here are the pictures I took of Centurio Jo fighting first, Brodbiz and second, Scooter. I think. (I can't remember their proper names, those Romans make things so complicated sometimes).

The second thing is more important just to me, but my adelphe are glad for me, too. Our sister Kara, she who is also called 'Supergirl', purchased a whole island for the Justice League Unlimited to use as a base after some recent upsets... and I have my own parcel there, and Kara raised me a little island all my own. I have built a shrine to Artemis, surrounded by plant sacred to her - cypress and amaranth - with a translucent roof so her chariot's light will always shine within.



Obviously this is dedicated to Artemis Phoebe. Since it is surrounded by water, I will also honour one of her aspects where she was depicted as half-fish, Artemis Eurunomê; her temple at Phiglea in Arcadia is said to also have been surrounded by cypresses. And Artemis Chitônê, for her guidance and protection when (and that is presuming I will become a member) I act as elder sister Donna... I mean, 'Wonder Girl', with the League. I need ikons.

(That is the House of El in the background with the glowing mist and crystal columns. Beyond that is the tiki bar, in the centre of the land.)
hola_melanippe: (Shield of Roma)
One of the male officers made this presentation of one of our training sessions. My sorors... ha, hybrid Latin... who are fighting are Popea, Jo and Nina (she's the senior Optio). I actually got to participate later - we couldn't get a Senator or Præfectus who was free, so since I am a Procurator and acolyte, changed back out of uniform and presented the 'winner' of the fighting with a sacred cup before the shrine of Ares Mars. That got left out, though. My motivating spirit says I must say I was 'left on the cutting room floor', although the surgery is two doors down from the shrine...
hola_melanippe: (Spear of Amazonia)
'Implied slavery' has nothing to do with my promotion to Optio that I neglected to note here - it's been so busy! Nor with my acceptance into the Collegio as an acolyte (although every Amazon is a sort of lay priestess anyway, isn't she). It rather has to do with himations. Veils and pallas. Over-clothing, whatever name you might wish to use.

The priestesses, unsurprisingly, wear veils, thin draperies over the head and sometimes over the face. It is a symbol of the mysteries they encounter, and their separateness from the material world. However, finding decently-made veils, never mind proper wrappings, is another matter. The High Priestess gave me some notes, one of which was for a place called 'Black Rose'. After the frustration of looking through a slow-loading vendor of togas and such that I did not find... suitable... I returned to Black Rose at least in hopes of a head-drapery for formal occasions. I have my wolfskin mantle, a gift from one of the Legio brethren, to keep the chill off my shoulders at least.

Veils. Face-veils. Veils to wear while one's body is displayed like on a butcher's table, sectioned up into gobbets of lustful desire while the face is hidden away, being of no importance to male lust. Women in chains, women in ropes, women whose 'clothing' was intended to sell wares and hide personalities. Parodies of Amazons, wearing 'armour' that consisted of a few scraps of metal useless for protection while the most vulnerable areas are exposed - no, displayed.

My blood was boiling by the time I finished looking. I would have set fire to the place had I a torch at hand.
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