My name is TIFFANY. I'm 36 years old, and married with kids.

I am a Minister with the Church of Body Modification, a member of the Stay Classy Suspension Team, a Licensed Private Investigator #24291, and an amateur photographer.

I've been on IAM since 2002, previously as "Shaman."


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or Email Me at: ritual.modification@gmail.com



3/16/2003 | 2 comments

Ehtele'mele (Vernal Equinox) draws near. This is to be a week of romance and song. Next Saturday, I decided to get the green and blue elven star tattooed on the back of my neck. I contacted the studio, and they open at 12pm. I'm going to try and be the first customer there. I sort of have an appointment - I warned them that I'm coming, but they didn't think an appointment was necessary for that early in the day.

More Poetry
3/15/2003 | 0 comments

Tula, hama neva i'naur
Uuma dela
Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin

Lle rangwa amin?
Amin mela lle
Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar

Lle rangwa amin?

Tula, hama neva i'naur

3/15/2003 | 5 comments

I may get this tattooed on the back of my neck soon... I can't decide if I want to do it in blue and green, or if I want to do it in all black. Any suggestions people? I mean, the decision is ultimately mine, but I like input...

English is so Uncomfortable
3/15/2003 | 8 comments

Men cenuva fánë cirya
Who shall see a white ship
métima hrestallo círa,
leave the last shore,
i fairi nécë
the pale phantoms
ringa súmaryassë
in her cold bosom
ve maiwi yaimië?
like gulls wailing?

Man tiruva fána cirya,
Who shall heed a white ship,
wilwarin wilwa,
vague as a butterfly,
in the flowing sea
rámainen elvië
on wings like stars,
ëar falastala,
the sea surging,
winga hlápula
the foam blowing,
rámar sisílala,
the wings shining,
cálë fifírula?
the light fading?

Man hlaruva rávëa súrë
Who shall hear the wind roaring
ve tauri lillassië,
like leaves of forests;
ninqui carcar yarra
the white rocks snarling
isilmë ilcalassë,
in the moon gleaming,
isilmë pícalassë,
in the moon waning,
isilmë lantalassë
in the moon falling
ve loicolícuma;
a corpse-candle;
raumo nurrua,
the storm mumbling,
undumë rúma?
the abyss moving?

Man cenuva lumbor ahosta
Who shall see the clouds gather,
Menel acúna
the heavens bending
ruxal' ambonnar,
upon crumbling hills,
ëar amortala,
the sea heaving,
undumë hácala,
the abyss yawning,
enwina lúmë
the old darkness
elenillor pella
beyond the stars
atalantië mindonnar?
upon fallen towers?

Man tiruva rácina cirya
Who shall heed a broken ship
ondolissë mornë
on the black rocks
nu fanyarë rúcina,
under broken skies,
anar púrëa tihta
a bleared sun blinking
axor ilcalannar
on bones gleaming
métim' auressë?
in the last morning?
Man cenuva métim' andúnë?
Who shall see the last evening?

Keepers of Time
3/14/2003 | 1 comments

After the shower, I went to bed. I felt good about the world, and calm in my own skin. I found a new piercing place in Pasadena called Prix. I will probably go by the shop this weekend and check out their shop and their jewelry selection. But once I drifted off to sleep, the dreams commenced.

The War and the Keepers of Time

I was in some sort of helicopter, high above a jungle or a forest. The helicopter wasn't anything I had ever seen before, and it made almost no noise. We descended on a military fort - a clearing in the trees surrounded by high fences and armed guards. As soon as it touched the ground I jumped out, followed closely by my two bodyguards. They called me "Daniwah," which seemed to be a rank similar to Commander or General.

A woman approached me, accompanied by one of my Advisors. She identified herself as Tan-e, the new wife of an ex-husband of mine. The Advisor had a letter in his hand, apparently written by Tan-e. We had received it some weeks ago. I had thrown the letter away, but apparently, the Advisor had retrieved it and read it.

I started walking. The War was coming to an end. Within the next six-moons, I should have the last of the negotiations settled and the last of my dead burried. I didn't have time for the whining of some girl. The Advisor tried to stop me, pleading that I speak with the girl.

I drew my gun and shot the girl. Then I shot the Advisor. As the Advisor's body hit the ground, he dropped a large sack that was slung over his shoulder. A single Ah-ten (a religious pendent) fell out of the sack and onto the floor.

My Advisor was a Keeper. Of course, I didn't *know* he was a Keeper of Time when I shot him, or else I would have had him dishonorably discharged and returned home instead. In my culture, a Keeper of Time is a military position, active only during times of War. The Keepers always have another position to fill. In this man's case, he was an Advisor to the Daniwah. Keepers of Time approach dying men on the battlefield, usually only those in one's own Faluque (one's own side, like the Army or Navy, only there was one unified military). The Keeper approaches the dying man, and asks him if he has any messages or last words to return to his family. The Keeper takes the man's personal items, the last words, and delivers them to the man's family (at an address provided by the soldier) once the War is over.

A Keeper of Time was a very important, almost religious, roll. Unfortunately for me, it was agreed upon by our Faluque (pronounced Fawl-eek) and by our enemy's that, if someone kills a Keeper, they are required to fulfill the Keeper's position. In essence, by killing a Keeper, I became a Keeper myself.

I picked up the sack, and ordered one of the guards to have the Advisor's body sent to my personal chambers. I wanted to make sure I collected all of the Advisor's belongings so I could complete the Keepership. In the case of Tan-e, I ordered her body to be creamated. I read the letter she sent me. It said that she betrayed the trust of the Faluque. She had been a spy, working behind enemy lines for a number of years. She married my ex-husband to help my side win the War.

My ex-husband was the King of our enemy. Tan-e was one of my spies. She couldn't help but love the King, and stopped sending me intelligence after about a year. Her letter said she was coming to visit me, and she begged that I kill her instead of her being tried for treason. The only other person who knew about this was the Advisor. Tan-e had done the Faluque such a service - ultimately helping us win the War - that I decided to grant her mercy, to kill her, and to cover up her act of treason.

"Tine an Faluque." (Long live our military.)

Postcard Exchange (34317 posts)


673 headshots.

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