Born to a blacksmith and a priestess witch, Miranda brought a new life to the nestled occupants of Ashtown in Waterford, Ireland. Faded memories lurk in the back of her mind, the haunting images of a woman with a bright smile and red hair like hers. When the church tried to rise to power in Ireland those of ancient magic and blood lines were no longer safe. Miranda's mother was taken from her family and tired as a witch with only one way for it to end. She was burned alive. Her husband forced to light the green wood logs at his wife's feet in order to keep their daughter safe. From this violent start, Miranda learned to channel her magical abilities into metal work. Spoon, horseshoe, sword the list goes on and on. One leather apron, a hammer all her own and the scent of smoke from the coals and roses climbing up the side of the small forge on the Branson estate. When she was old enough to make up her own mind, the young girl learned how to fight and took to the war against the church. A mask of silver perched on her face, Miranda sought to even the playing field. This passion and drive reaches to every aspect of her life. A sense of fairness and respect fills the mage house she now leads. In the arms of her love and coven founder, Morgan Doyle the world is born anew. Of course there are still problems to attend to. Supply list, flying dolls, what to make for dinner and answer the questions of their bubbling 4 year old daughter Angel. Miranda happily takes on the day to day challenges of keeping this bubbling crock pot of magic for a house in some semblance of order. On occasion the walls decide they would rather have a book case over a painting and then again there is the random new room. If you are looking for this house leader try her office first, forge second and last the kitchen. You can tell just how bad the day is going by asking the kitchen how many cups of tea she has had. Your imagination is the limit here and of course Miranda encourages. It isn't every day you end up with a mini fireworks show in the fireplaces. Or for that matter a members flying about. Best to shrug and carry on. Welcome to Mage House.

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Bright and cheerful, the kitchen is the easiest way to catch a member. The pantry and cabinets are stocked with food from everywhere to make sure that no one starves. If you have no idea how to cook, don't worry, this kitchen has a mind of it's own and if you say please and thank you it is not unheard of to find something made and waiting. Just be sure you are in the right cabinet. Some herb blends were never meant for stew and a house of shrunken mages is difficult to correct when you are the size of a mouse.

Picture Credit: pinterest.com

First Walk in the Mage Garden

Arthour walked out into the garden. This was in fact the first time he'd visited the Mage House properly since becoming a member, or since becoming a teacher at the Academy. He loved it. The garden's were beautiful and his foot steps took him past all the various flower beds and other plants, he smiled brightly as he moved between them all, enjoying the wonderful scents hanging in the air, the wonderful colours and the architecture.

Most of all, he loved the atmosphere. Not just of Mage House, but of Bristle Crios it's self. It had been along time since he'd found himself a place to be accepted and fit in, a place to settle down and (Recalling a conversation he'd had with Katt at the Inn, he smiled) A place to live. Five hundred years. That was how long it had been. How long since he'd left his homeland forever, fleeing on the heels of a cataclysm the decimated the entire continent. Nothing remained now. Not one thing. It had begun to sink beneath the ocean in the intervening sixty-four years after the start of the cataclysm and when he'd left. It had been hard at first....But five centuries is a long time to think, and think he had. He'd come to terms with what had happened and while it still hurt, he could bear the pain now....

Arthour stopped, looking up at the sky with his black cloak wrapped around him and wondered....Why was he thinking about this now? Perhaps it was due to the flowers and the garden in general, or maybe it was because of the Academy, he was teaching again and he was part of Mage House, around other magic users again, after so long of travailing by land and by ship until he reached this city. Or....Maybe, it was something else. Mai.

When he'd first arrive in RhyDin, he'd never thought he would meet someone like Mai, never. As he thought of her, smiled again, brightly. He was happy, Very Happy as he thought of her. Walking on, following a random path, he smiled and looked at his ring finger with something close to amazement for what he was sure was the millionth time now. On his finger was a ring, one Mai had given him. It had been her father's once, it was a gold ring with a silver design on it, it bore her father's favourite things she'd told him. Lions, Swords and one last thing, her mother. Curling his fingers into a tight fist, he clasped it tightly in his other hand and held the ring close to his lips, kissing it lightly as he walked. It had meant a great deal to her and he'd promised to take care of it for her. He would do just that. He continued to walk like that, the ring held close to his face as his booted feet crunched on the stone pathway, a smile on his face as he turned and made his back to the main building, unsurprised that no one else seemed to be out in this weather. He had some papers to fill out and mark and then he would go home. Home The thought put a wider smile on his face as he walked.