Hex: And So The Plot Is Hatched

"It's almost just like the other times, Erin. Except this time, it's even deeper, truer. Just do your thing, dude, and let us do our thing."

I shifted uncomfortably, staring at each of the Hexpiritus seated around the circular oaken table. We had all changed.

Fiona, long wavy sky-blue hair, clear silver eyes, moonlit pools, hugged her knees to her chest in her big, comfy navy-blue corduroy armchair. She had delicate pointed ears, and her body, naked, I assumed, was covered by the swirls of shifting colour and form that was her growing wings-- sometimes feathers, sometimes butterfly-shaped, sometimes dragonfly-lattice-work. Blue roses were strewn about her hair, and one was clasped in her fingers. I remembered the old blue rose, the terrible dream that had nearly destroyed Cata and Feyr when they were intertwined in its cruel thorns of self-inflicted and vindictive pain. I knew this rose was different, this one attached to her wings-- the concepts of self-enlightenment, healing, and growth, instead of abject suffering.

Cat was wrapped in her usual black, tight-fitting but non-restrictive clothing, easy for movement and battle. Her obsidian katana strapped across her back, as usual. Short black curls framed her mocha skin, dark slanted eyes of deep violet watched everything and missed nothing, though at first glance it looked as if she was half-asleep, with her droopy, bedroom gaze. Her Beast lay beneath the surface-- no cat ears or tail flicked and twitched, though her hands were still slightly clawed, those nails too thick, curved, and pointed to be human. She lounged about in her scarlet, bowl-shaped wicker chair, stuffed with black velvet pillows.

The first thing I noticed about Stelle was that her skin had darkened-- darker than Cat's, as if she had become South East Asian. Her hair was still long, straight, and silver, like finely spun starlight. Her eyes were still midnight pools of depthless knowledge and eidetic observation. I knew that if she spoke, her voice would have that familiar faint-to-heavy northern British accent. She wore a grey knee-length pencil skirt, with a matching fitted grey suit jacket over a loose white blouse. She sat primly in a black ergonomic office chair.

Then there was Rhees, also a great shock. His skin wasn't as pale as usual, though if it was a tan or now his new permanent look, I couldn't tell. His head was completely shaved, eschewing what I called his "John Constantine" look. I suppose he was now going for a pseudo Grant Morrison, but without all the piercings and tattoos. He'd gone back to the suit-and-tie ensembles we had been used to, though with a bizarre monochromatic twist-- the dress pants and suit itself were glaring white, the tie and shoes a shiny, patent leather black, and the dress shirt a charcoal grey. He leaned forward, his face now a study of gruff, sharp angles, and piercing electric blue eyes. All the softness, if there had been any in him before, had been worn away, leaving crags of determination and jagged bolts of purpose. His chair was a large-backed wooden one, seeming to match the table.

Aster, hair in a careless orange faux-hawk, did not look any different, thank the Stars. Ripped black jeans that only reached his knees and a purple t-shirt with the entire Enochian tables in black, edged with silver, was covering his lanky frame. I'm sure the back of his t-shirt would have some bizarre witticism concerning Dr. John Dee that would leave most occultists gagging or spluttering with barely checked laughter. He wore mauve flip-flops with raven patterns, and sparkly black nail polish on his toes-- the same polish, chipped, on his finger nails. The letters CHAO was written on the fingers of his right hand, below the knuckles. On his left hand he wore a single hematite ring on his middle finger. He sat on a throne made of night and stars, lined with rainbows that shifted in and out of one's periphery.

I could imagine how the others saw me. My brown hair had darkened, almost to a chestnut black, long bangs covering one eye, and only revealing a thick black rectangle that framed the other eye, a stormy grey. My frumpy, overweight shape was adorned with worn grey jeans, black and white Converse shoes, a plain hunter green t-shirt covered by a black-and-grey striped hoodie. I sat uncomfortably in a faded blue wheeled computer chair.

"Are you sure this is gonna work?" I asked again, though my voice sounded resigned, as if I was only asking because everyone expected me to.

It was Rhees who answered, much to my astonishment. "Yes. At the very least, goal visualization is proven to be a major factor in success."

"Okay, okay," I muttered. "Fine. Fine, it's just like all the other brainstorming story sessions we used to do together. I get it. Once upon a time... there was a girl. No, not a girl anymore, but a woman. What is she doing? Is she in love? Is she happy? Starting with a happy character usually isn't the best way to begin a story, y'know."

"We're starting at the end of the story, remember?" Aster chimed in. "And work our way backwards. Better for plot reconstruction, I think."

"She doesn't have to be happy," Cat said quietly. "Just filled with a sense of purpose-- even a grim one. She has confidence in what she needs to do, and she no longer is confused as to what she has to do. There will be challenges in the future for her, of course, but now she knows how to face them, with the support of her pack, her tribe, and her own self-reverence, self-knowledge, and self-control."

Rhees rubbed his chin. "That's still too vague, but it's a good start. She lives in a house. Owned or rented? With people who support and understand her. Let's say they're all renting this house together, and are looking to own it one day, or save up money to mortgage a house together. How does she pay for the rent of this house, and the food on her table?"

"She reanimates the dead!" Aster pumped his fist. "And executes big bad vampires!"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "For fuck's sake, Aster. We are not making our lives into improbable film noir and sheer supernatural smut."

"Okay, she's a renowned rock star, poet, writer, activist, and spiritualist. Her hobbies include martial arts, dance, and sacred erotica."

"What does all that even mean?" Rhees snorted. "How can she do all of that and be all of those things at the same time? Be more concise, precise, and detailed."

"Sheeh, fine... she... develops her spiritual and political theories by planting it in her books, movies, poetry, and performance. At the same time, she also works on music, martial arts, dance, and sacred erotica as pastimes. The books, movies, poetry, and performances make enough money --as well as the tours, speeches, and conferences-- to pay for rent. Sometimes she even hits a big one out of the ballpark, and she's almost saved up to buy an entire house for herself and her loved ones. Though for awhile the money she saved up was used to pay off debt, half then went to the mortgage, and the other half to travelling. She's on a quest, you see, for knowledge and wisdom. So sometimes she takes month-long-or-more vacations by herself or with certain people, into wildernesses or ancient cities or important conventions or cultural festivals or politically significant protests/rallies, looking for answers and adventure. AWWWW YEAH!"

Rhees raised his brows. "Better, Aster, better. But who are these people that she lives with and travels with?"

Fiona smiled and lifted her head. "Her circle, her pack, her tribe. She loves them, and they love her. They accept her for who she is, and she accepts them for who they are. They can be themselves around each other. They help each other grow, and they're there for each other, in times of joy and suffering. They offer a sense of community and belonging."

"They also divide up house chores," Stelle spoke up, and refused to blush. "Either that or they have separate bathrooms and kitchens that they're in charge of. Whatever within the household is communal, then there has to be an equal divvying up of chores to make sure that everyone does their fair share. There should be crisis procedures in place in case any one of them is going through a physical or psychological emergency, or are swamped with projects, and can't catch up to their chores--"

"Oh! Oh!" Aster flailed a hand. "I know Stelle is speaking now, but something just occurred to me. The location of the house has to be near downtown, or in a part of town that is walking distance from cool shit, and I'm not talking about some local box mall or something equally lame. Like... Westboro, or the Glebe, if not Centretown or Lowertown (neighbourhoods near the Market). Or even one of those side streets off of Elgin-- though I guess that would be Centretown still. Also, there should be parks nearby, as well as grocery stores. And she should own a bike, with tires for all seasons. Yeah. Though when she can afford it, a motorized or electrically run scooter would be BADASS. Black or purple must be the color."

Everyone stared at him. Aster grinned broadly. "Aaaand... back to you, Stelle!"

"It's important that... the woman... partake of social activities befitting her psychological, mental, emotional, and spiritual level," Stelle began again. "She should have social circles that are accepting of her lifestyle, and understand her commitment to her live-in lovers, and the others that do not live with her. So, particular attention and care must be given both to the kind of housemates she has, as well as the social circle they participate in, and her own social circle beyond them (such as other alternative artists, activists, spiritualists, and visionaries). As I mentioned before, her housemates should understand the importance of house chores, as well as emotional and physical health. All of these activities are connected to general upkeep. Practical and necessary. The connection between her and the housemates is also necessary. Fiona covered the basics, but it is imperative that at least one of the housemates, or all the housemates collectively, have a deep emotional, spiritual, and sensual connection with the woman. Their lives and goals are entwined-- the good of one is the good of the pack. The good of the pack is the good of one. Communication must easily flow and move between all of the housemates, about their desires, fears, aspirations, and general feelings. Example: if one of them wants to adopt a child, thorough discussion between them all must take place to see if they can bring a child into this household, and if all of them can handle the responsibility, how their finances will affect the situation, and if adequate research has been done by them all for proper parenting-- both book research and relatives and other tribe members who already have children. Similar procedures are applicable for anything concerning losing a job, getting a new job, going back to school, where and with whom to spend the holidays, and communal rituals. Another note: when conflict arises, the issue concerns all of the pack. However, if one person keeps destabilizing the pack, then it becomes clear that either the entire pack must be disbanded, or that person must be ejected, or outside assistance is needed to heal the wounds in that single person, or in the pack dynamics."

"How many people?" Cat demanded.

Stelle blinked. "What? I beg your pardon?"

"How many people are in this pack? The live-in pack?"

"Oh... one to four, I suppose, in addition to the woman herself. Preferred number would be either a triad or a square."

"What are their roles?"

"Well, I don't want to be too rigid about it. Pack dynamics are complicated things, depending on how many people involved. I will take spiritual elemental examples of Earth, Fire, Water, Air, and Center/Spirit. It is possible that there can be just one person who can fulfill all of these things, or different people with different roles. Or, which is preferable, pack members exchange roles naturally and periodically depending on the situation. Therefore, the Earth role means there is always one person who stabilizes the group, and can ground bouts of negativity and depression, concretize ideas and energy into practical suggestions and action. There is also the Fire role, where at least one person infuses energy into the pack, keeping them motivated within their own respective goals and dreams, as well as the dreams and goals of the collective. This also leads into passion-- the passion for each other, and for exploring each other and the world together. The Water role is about taking care of each other's emotional needs, going through harrowings, and nurturing each other. Making sure energy isn't blocked. Air role is about making sure adequate communication is happening between everyone in the pack, and keeping a record, mental or otherwise, about what everyone's goals are, and the group's goals in general, whether we should change those goals, or whether we're keeping on task. Spirit/Center role is just the overall heart of the collective, the pack's spirit, connection, and love of each other. Ideally, there should be perhaps three other housemates besides the woman, all who can be good at communicating, at nurturing, at being a stable rock, and at infusing passion and action into each other. They should be able to empathize with each other, but also complement each other, i.e. not match each other's states all the time, but also be the Fire to someone's Earth, the Air to someone's Water. When they're all together, they can summon and embody the Spirit of their pack."

Rhees was beaming proudly. "You really HAVE been researching a lot about group and polyamorous dynamics."

"Of course," Stelle said, confused as to Rhees' statement. "Why wouldn't I? This is an important part of our lives."

Aster claps hands. "Okay, people, review! The woman lives in a house with three other people (at the least one or two), all of them adequately able to be stabilizing, communicative, passionate, and nurturing forces. All of them have a collective spirit, connection, and goals. The house they live in first is rented, but they will eventually own a house together. They have their own means of travelling-- the woman uses her legs, public transportation, her bike, and her electric bike. Everyone in the household contributes to income for paying rent and working towards the mortgage. The woman pays rent via profit off books, movies, plays, articles, performances, touring, conferences, all of that. When she's not busy with her art and research (this includes all spirituality and activism as this is integral to her creative fiction and non-fiction) she is dancing, doing martial arts, practicing sacred erotica, and travelling. A lot. She is spending time with loved ones by doing martial arts with them, sacred erotica, creating, and travelling. She wants to change the world for the better. She is thinking of one day adopting a child, if one ever came into her life that needed a home, and if the other housemates and packmates agree."

"Sounds too idyllic," Cat snaps.

"Oh, well, she also has problems with bad press because of her crazy lifestyle that she constantly must defend implacably, and the 2012 crisis, where people will look up to her as a leader in certain communities because of the things that she's written, which seems to some people to eerily predict what would happen. She struggles with responsibility constantly, but thanks to her own self-confidence, and the support of her pack, she may pull through. Also, to tie up loose ends, there will be a threat that was foretold from the past, a supernatural/occult threat by people or entities that knew of her when she was young and had not grown into her power. They will also come for her and her spiritual family, and it will take great courage, wisdom, and strength to defeat or best this challenge."

My eyes had widened and my mouth hung open, even though Cat looked satisfied. "But... but Aster, that's... scary. And... improbable?"

Aster shrugged and made a soothing gesture towards me. "It's just a story, Erin. Isn't it?"

"I guess... though you said this was the end, but it sounds like the middle."

"Whatever. The important part now is to go back to the beginning, make a connection from this woman we've all just created and envisioned together, to the other woman, the younger, frightened, confused one. What's she like, Erin?"

I rubbed my eyes behind my glasses, and then raked my hands through my hair.

"Well, she's... tired. But not as confused as you make her out to be. She lives by herself, in a rented basement apartment. There are people who live upstairs and use the laundry room that's part of her apartment. She has a dreary office job, some boring computerized shit about document management and data entry. But, y'know, at least she's somewhat self-sufficient, though she's terrible with money and constantly in debt-- but not a huge debt. Something like $10,000. She owes some people money, too. $50-160 to at least three people. She barely has time to clean, and she gets distracted by alternative consumerism. She relies on public transportation, which is a hassle when they go on strike. She has five lovers, all of whom she considers pack, but none which have completely entwined their life with hers. She is locally known as a poet, writer, activist, community organizer, and harmless eccentric. She longs to do more with that life, but her job tires her out so much she can barely find time to do anything creative or passionate with her work and her loved ones. She is almost paralyzed by the past, by her fears and her perceived failures. Shadows eating at her soul. She's on a spiritual quest, and initiated herself as an urban babaylan, a tribal filipino term that has all but disappeared from this culture now enmeshed in either Islam or Catholicism. Her feelings of failure and fatalism haunt her even on the best of days, casting a pall and making her believe that she is doomed to be a monster or a nothing or a lunatic, or all three. She doesn't know whether to go back to school-- she has a Bachelor's-- and get a Master's, or run back to her parents with her tail between her legs, or keep marching on in this menial data-filled drudgery. She loves everyone she's with, but the relationships don't seem to be fulfilling enough. She's reached a stage where she either wants more, or wants to start over with new people. She's decided to try to commit to one of them, bizarrely, the one who's married and could never truly entwine with her life the way that she wants, but she's following her heart. She's wondering when she'll have time to date new people as well, and she constantly questions whether she's made the right decision about everything in her life. She fights not to be consumed by apathy, addictive escapism, and putting social acceptance on a shining pedestal."

Rhees made a face, like a grimace or a frozen sigh. "That sounds rather accurate."

"Well then!" Aster rubs his hands together. "We have the beginning and the ending of the story. Self-deprecating weirdo office worker going through an existential crisis of stagnation and paralysis. In the end, she is a powerful, beautiful, capable woman-- what she was all along, but now she knows it and knows how to deal with it wisely. Hey, and not ONLY is she a woman, but she's an androgyne, a two-spirit, a walker between worlds. Masculine and feminine within that female-looking body. How did this happen?"

"In 'Stranger Than Fiction'," I started slowly, "Harold Crick's life changes when Karen Eiffel starts writing him in her book. And then when he falls in love with Ana Pascal and starts actualizing his dreams. When he realizes that he wants to live, not just survive. In 'Fight Club'... well, Tyler really does all the work. He concocts a crazy brilliant fucked-up plan, then sets to work destroying Jack's life-- he destroys Jack's apartment, the symbolism of his stagnation. He makes him move into that dilapidated mansion, which was probably paid for by Tyler's extra jobs, if paid for at all. They start a cult based around a release of the violent tension created by postmodern society, and through this brainwashing and loyalty, create an army to tear down all the credit companies of North America. Reducing debt to zero. In the Wheel of Time series, villains and mentors come to the small village of Emond's Field-- both of them displacing the main characters from their idyllic village life and transform them into unwitting and legendary heroes. In 'Wanted', I assume the character is approached by the assassins' guild to join them, and they seek to train him into one of them. In most tales, there is a catalyst, a call to adventure, to change the main character. Donnie Darko-- there is Frank, and the jet engine. But in 'Fight Club', it is the main character himself, well, his other personality, who manipulates events. Tyler has the balls to destroy in order to create. He realizes things must be let go to move forard."

"Which is why we have to do that Harrowing in January," Aster says smoothly. "We have to let go. So in our story, this girl has to let go of all of that shit to become the woman she is destined to be. Why? What causes her to change? What is the catalyst, the trigger?"

"One day she just snaps," Cat mutters.

"A sickness, a dream," Fiona suggests. "A Goddess touches her, and talks to her in her sleep and in her fever. Shows her what her life could be, the paths she can take to horror or beauty."

"Her own discontent becomes too heavy to bear," Rhees sighs. "It weighs her down and she knows she will either collapse and vanish into oblivion, or pull herself up by her bootstraps and soldier on."

I smiled shyly at each of them. "Those are all good ideas. I think they can all be incorporated. She's filled with malaise, she snaps, and during this break down, she is given a glimpse by deities as to her true potential. Cool. They tell her to go on a quest, a specific journey that's part of the bigger quest she's already on. This one requires her to let go of all those old destructive dreams and shadows. She has to focus on her new calling, the glimpse of the woman she is to become. So what does she change first? Her job? Expanding her social circle in case the housemates that will eventually come live with her are people she doesn't know yet? Both changing her job and expanding her social circle can eventually lead to moving into a household with her pack, and also she can start saving up and affording her bike and more martial arts. Once she changes her job, she then has more free time to dance, and research and create. Fall in love and be in love."

"The job change seems the most important," Rhees said thoughtfully. "But how shall it happen to her? Will one of her lovers win a grant to write a television script with her? Will she win a grant herself? Will she get accepted into the entrepreneur program, and work on being a freelance writer? How will she have time to research with all the other stuff that's going on? Perhaps she'll be recommended as an editor for a magazine that she enjoys, or an old professor will contact her and say that his publisher is interested in her work."

"Okay, so one of those things happens when she turns 24, or in her 24th year," Aster suggests. "It induces her to quit her job, and she launches herself into writing as much as she can, as best as she can. When she's not writing, she's exercising her body, mind, and spirit, through research and activity. She's going on dates and being in love. She's on the market for a new bike, and re-learning how to ride it. She's studying survival skills and going camping. She's LIVING. It's awesome. Shit's hard, though. Financial troubles still bother her, but she's thinking she can win a big writer's contest with one of her ideas, and that would take a big chunk out of her debt."

"But... so... she just has to wait for something to happen to force her to quit her job?" I said doubtfully. "What does she do in the meantime?"

"Generate ideas. Work on a freelance writer's business plan. Destroy and discard all those old, shadow dreams. Understand herself better. Be in love. Be in joy. Keep writing, keep looking for editing jobs. Trust in the goddess. Be ready to take the opportunity when it comes. Because it WILL come for her."

"And then... what?"

"Financial troubles will continue to plague her, but she's able to keep most of it at bay. Drama with her relationships ensues, as it's becoming increasing clear that they realize she may be falling for someone new. Or the dynamics shift once again. She has to keep on top of it all by communicating with everyone about what's going on with her internally and externally, especially if she's falling in love again and what that entails for everybody else. There may be some leavetakings, but the people she is with love her very much and are pack, so it's unlikely. But then it begins to happen. First she sells stories, or an anthology, or a manuscript. It does moderately well. This makes her want to keep writing more. She garners attention from her non-fiction articles on spirituality, polyamory, and multiplicity. She begins writing a series, which off the bat, is almost a large success, but appeals to only a certain niche market, which does not include most young children and conservative fundamentalists. The series, and its subsequent associated paraphernalia start generating an income that goes beyond anything she is prepared for. This helps largely with her financial troubles, and eliminates her debt. She begins saving up for a possible mortgage and travelling, though tours have already been set up for her, which she faces with confusion and consternation. She decides to organize the tour herself, and make it a festival for magic, alternative culture, activism, and independent media. She makes sure she always books names bigger than herself and makes them headliners, and she tries to be one of the openers with the local acts that's also part of the festival. Each festival has informational and activity-based workshops concerning important activist issues and magickal work. Especially workshops where the two overlap. She is very fastidious as to the carbon footprint of the festival, as well, and concocted some kind of 'wandering caravan' approach involving electrically run vehicles on rechargeable batteries. This nearly lands her broke again, if not for the huge success of the festival. She manages to barely break even. Her name is established. She continues to research, write, perform, publish, and organize. In the meantime, several of her partners decide that it's time to move in together, to live in a communal household as a social and romantic experiment. She agrees, and they pool their savings to get a mortgage on a beautiful, cozy house 'with character' in an 'alternative', hip, friendly neighbourhood walking and biking distance from grocery stores, parks, community centers, bookshops, etc. The first month is fine, but then the new few months are extremely rocky, to the point that the relationShip is about to capsize. Then they resolve the issues, and settle into an evolving, spiralling, positive groove. She is seen through the city whizzing around on her electrical scooter, covered in tattoos, with recycled clothes she made or designed herself, or one of her more apt partners made, or at some indie store munching on fruit/veggies, scribbling something in her notebook and flailing her limbs about theatrically. She breakdances on street corners with her posse and does swordfights in the park in the summer. She runs the occasional marathon and every year makes sure she bests the aerial park. A street kid (been kicked out of his house for two months so far) befriends her, a kid that reminds her a lot of herself, but different, an androgynous cross-dressing gay boy with a killer voice, and she begins composing speeches to convince her housemates to adopt this 15 year old heartbreaker... All the while, she makes sure to thank the deities, and be true to the Way..."

Aster trails off, sighing happily. "Well? Well?"

Fiona giggles. "I like it!"

Cat snorts. "You threw in that shit about swordfights and the aerial park for me. So transparent."

Stelle nods primly. "It is quite the happy story."

"I agree," Rhees murmured. "Happy, ideal, almost perfect..."

They all looked at me. I blinked at them. "What? What happens now?"

Aster grinned impudently. "What we make of it."