Wicca’s Originals @ Witchcraft & Wizardry // May 2022

 

Wicca’s Originals @ Witchcraft & Wizardry // May 12th – June 5th

“Used in ancient rituals by the Magic Council of SL,to amplify one’s magical power, the Seraphina Necklace and Earrings have endured a lot over the centuries.

They’ve been passed down through generations, until one day, there was no one left to pass it over to.

After that, the Seraphina Necklace and Earrings were locked away… forgotten, until now.

Augment your magic by completing the Seraphina set with the additional Bindi.

The joining of these 3 Enchanted items will fuel any Witch or Wizard with an insane amount of magical power…

But be careful, these aren’t just for any Witch or Wizard. You must know what you’re doing in order to fully tap into the power of Seraphina.

And remember… great power doesn’t just come with responsibility… It comes with a price. Use them wisely.”

Sizes: Maitreya (Lara, Petite), Legacy[F] (Classic, Perky), Ebody Reborn & unrigged version

HUD: 10 Colors/Metals

Event Location: Witchcraft & Wizardry // May 2022

Wicca’s Originals @ The Warehouse Sale // April 2022

Wicca’s Originals @ The Warehouse Sale // April 23rd – May 18th

Strip Away The Layers

The closer she looked, the more the colors blurred. Dull, lifeless, common. Nothing to write home about, if she actually had someone to write to. It was a minor piece by an insignificant artist, who led an unremarkable life. Just like me, Naia thought to herself.

With a heavy sigh, Naia pulled off the magnified glasses she used to resort paintings at the Metropolitan Museum and tossed them on her worktable. The throbbing behind her eyes was there when she woke up that morning and nothing; shower, food or coffee, eased her discomfort. Considering the shower was lukewarm at best, the food bland and the coffee weak, it’s not like there was much hope.

For seven years, two as an unpaid intern, Naia worked in the cold, temperature controlled basement of the museum for long hours and low pay. Her clothes were from the bargain racks at the local Goodwill. Long skirts down to her ankles, and oversized, shapeless sweaters; all meant to hide her body. She might be 26 years old, but Naia looked as old as the other two basement dwellers who worked nearby; both close to retirement age.

After rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, Naia looked up at the clocked and noticed it was after six; time to go home. Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones, heaven help her, those were their actual names, had already shuffled out, leaving Naia alone. No hellos. No goodbyes. No conversation day in and day out. It was like working in a morgue with walking corpses.

Naia gathered her belongs and made her way out of the museum. She arrived at the bus stop in time to see the 6:15 chug away down the street. With her bag clutched tightly to her stomach, Naia sat gingerly on the edge of the bench and waited for the next bus. What else could she do, but wait.

Two hour later, Naia walked the final block to her tiny efficiency apartment with a bag containing two soggy tacos and a warm soda from the whole-in-the-wall place around the corner. Just like work, she lived in the basement of a converted brownstone that had seen better days a century ago. As she drew closer, the building manager came out of the front entrance with an overflowing cardboard box. Without fanfare, he dropped the box on top of the trash cans with a grunt of disgust, and then climbed the high stoop as if it were Mt. Everest.

To enter her shabby little space, Naia had to descend a few steps to a door beneath that stoop. As she passed the trash cans, Naia caught sight of a familiar item in the discarded box. Naia reached out and fingered the well worn boots worn by Tillie in 3B. They found Tillie a few days ago when the manager went up to demand she turn down the music blasting from her crappy stereo, dressed in just her underwear and the needle still in her arm. Bet that stereo is now in the manager’s apartment.

Looking around to see if anyone was watching, Naia grabbed the box and hurried down to her apartment. Once safely inside, Naia dropped the forgotten food onto an old, scarred table and carried the box to her bed; which was no more than a thin mattress on top of a wooden pallet. The single room contained a toilet, shower (without any walls), sink and a tiny closet. No kitchen – only a hotplate on top of a small chest of drawers.

One by one, Naia emptied the contents of the box on to the mattress. A couple short skirts, a tank top, a black button down blouse, a red pullover blouse and a thin black sweater. All that remained were the thigh high boots and what looked like a child’s diary.
Naia stripped down to her underwear and dropped back down on to her bed. As if driven by a force unknown, Naia slipped into the boots. A little snug around the toes, but otherwise the leather hugged Naia’s legs like they were made just for her. Naia couldn’t help but stare at her legs like they were a new, strange creature she had never seen. And she couldn’t help but wonder about the woman who wore them.

With the diary in hand, Naia scooted back on the bed until her back rested against the wall; only a thin pillow to protect her skin against the rough, exposed brick. She turned on the small lamp that sat on the floor and worked the clasped open on the small book.

At the beginning, the diary was filled with girlish hopes and dreams. Pretty dresses. Parties. A puppy. As a teenager, Tillie dreamed of becoming a singer. Loved. Adored. Famous. Soon after that the entries turned dark. Names of men. What they made her do. What they paid her. How they hurt her. The last entries were nothing more than incomprehensible ramblings and unreadable scrawls.

Naia didn’t realize she was crying until her salty tears fell on the last page. She looked around the place she called home and her stomach turned. Her life could be reduced to a cardboard box carelessly thrown onto a trash can. With gentle hands, Naia carefully removed the boots as if they were fragile and costly and returned them to the box. Each piece of clothing, neatly folded, was returned to the box. Last, the diary was laid on top with respect, as though Naia was placing flowers upon Tillie’s grave.

Staring down at the carton that now rested beside her dresser, Naia was determined not to meet the same fate. For the first time in her life, Naia wanted to fight for something. She was ready to fight for a new and better life.
Naia no longer wanted to just exist. She wanted to live.

– THE END –

Sizes: Maitreya, Legacy [F], Freya, Hourglass, Reborn
HUD: 10 Colors & 10 Metals (hide option for the upper leather parts and you can color upper and lower part separately)
Event Location: The Warehouse Sale

NEW @ Wicca’s Originals // April 2022

NEW @ Wicca’s Originals // Mainstore

May It Be For Me

May it be sexy and sleek, to make a man’s knee’s weak.

May it make me look hot, and I will love it a lot. May it be worn different ways, so I can I use it different days.

May It fit several bodies, so many can look like hotties.

May it come in many colors, so I can be unlike all the others. May it be available soon, like this very afternoon.

May it be for me, wouldn’t you agree.

HUD: 10 Colors & 10 Metals

Sizes: Maitreya (Lara + Petite), Legacy[F] (Classy + Perky), Ebody Reborn

Location: Mainstore

Wicca’s Originals @ NEO Japan // March 2022

Wicca’s Originals @ NEO Japan // March 26th – April 23rd

The lights outside Pyper’s window were bright, almost too bright, They glared throughout the city, illuminated every building as far as the eye could see. Yet beyond, there was only darkness.

Such is the way of space. Light and dark battling for dominance. A station floating among the stars as a refuge: a beacon for intergalactic travelers from the cold darkness of space. To Pyper, it was simply home.

Pyper held the notable distinction of being the first human born on this station, thanks to the fact that her parents were among the first to build this new colony. As word spread, other species arrived, as well as human explorers and settlers.

That was over 50 years ago, based on the Earth calender and the only home Pyper ever knew. When she came into adulthood, Pyper could have boarded a ship and traveled throughout known space or explored beyond. She was well educated, thanks to her parents and highly skilled in engineering, physics and biochemistry. Instead, Pyper chose to remain and follow in the family business. Her parents worked hard all their lives, sometimes at great risk to their own safety and sanity, to see this dream realized. A neutral platform where races across the galaxy could meet and work together.

Dressed in a synthetic, leather-like jumpsuit that stored body heat and reduced the need for room-by-room heating units, Pyper finished dressing as she continued to stare out the windows. While all her wardrobe was standard for the residents, Pyper did indulge in one luxury – her boots.

While they were constructed by the same materials as her clothing, Pyper had them custom made to include platformed wedge to the sole that not only elevated her height, but gave her a feeling of personal power. Her mother once referred to them as ‘ass kicking heels’. Whatever they were called back on Earth, Pyper wore them with more than a bit of attitude.

Seeing time grew short, Pyper gathered the last of her things and left her quarters. The tram system platform that transported residents everywhere in the city was across from her building.

Within minutes Pyper arrived at work. She had taken over for her father after his death at 173 Earth years. Why is it the good die so young?

The doors opened automatically as Pyper approached so she never had to break her stride. Confident, brilliant, fierce, fair-minded – all adjectives used to describe Pyper Inshan when she assumed her father’s duties.

“Good morning, Ambassador Inshan,” Pyper’s aide greeted her with respectful bow, “The Kherillion delegation awaits you in the Great Hall.“

Sizes: Maitreya, Legacy[F], Hourglass, Freya, Reborn
HUD: 10 Colors & Metals each
Event Location: NEO Japan // March 2022

Wicca’s Originals @ Kinky // February 2022

Wicca’s Originals @ Kinky // February 28th – March 23rd

Finding Your Inner Self – Part 1

It’s Thursday, so it must be egg salad.
Yes, Erin was that predictable. And that boring. She led a small life in a big city. Just an insignificant speck among a million souls. That mousy girl that people forget was there. And not foolish enough to believe she would aspire to be anything more.

Just like every other day, Erin was alone in the employee breakroom of the museum where she worked. It was a beautiful summer day and everyone else had gone out for lunch. Everyone except plain, old Erin. No one thinks of asking her to go along.

So Erin grabbed her brown paper bag lunch from the fridge, poured a cup of stale coffee and took her usual seat at a table in the corner. For a moment she stared at the brown bag on the table and wished it contained something different, but knew it is the same thing, as it has been every Thursday since Erin was 5 years old.

Monday was chicken, left over from Sunday supper. Tuesday was peanut butter. Wednesday was bologna with butter on white bread. Thursday was egg salad. Friday was tuna (like a good Catholic). Sandwiches were always cut in four perfect little squares. Ten neatly cut carrot sticks; not eight, nor eleven, but ten. One small apple. One thin, white napkin. Like mother, like daughter.

The only child of a librarian and a housewife, Erin’s child was as exciting as white bread. Even her dreams were boring; limited to the safe and bland books her father brought home from the library each week. Yes, safe and bland books for a safe and bland girl.

Now in her early 30’s and all alone since her parents were both gone, Erin lived in a bland little apartment, not even a cat or canary for company. With a sigh, Erin reached for her lunch and shook the contents out onto the table. Out tumbled the egg salad sandwich, carrots, apple, napkin and … a folded piece of paper.

For a moment, Erin was afraid to even touch it, half expecting it to bite her like a snake. Finally, with a rare sense of curiosity, Erin reached for the paper. A gasp escaped her quivering lips as she read the words printed on the sheet. ‘Did you like the book?’

Her face suddenly flushed and Erin’s eyes darted around the room. How did someone find out about … the book? Two months ago, Erin followed her normal Saturday morning routine; bank, library, grocery store and home. Though, when she arrived home, Erin found an extra book in her bag. One she did not check out and wasn’t even a library book. As she began to read it, it was most definitely not a book from the library.

The words Erin read made her face burn, her skin tingle and caused aches in areas of her body she did not know could ache. Erin knew she should put the book down, but no matter how much she squirmed and wiggled on that lumpy old chair of hers, she could not stop reading. When she finally finished, Erin was so embarrassed, she ran to the kitchen and threw the book in the trash. She started to back away, and then fished it from the trash, only to throw it into a junk drawer. She paced nervously around the tiny kitchen for another minute before Erin snatched the book from the drawer and hurried into the living room.

Under the sagging sofa, behind an old, scarred desk, a high shelf in the coat closet – nowhere seems like a good hiding place. Finally, with the book tucked away in a cardboard box, under the shoes she wore only once for her high school graduation, Erin plopped down on the edge of her bed, exhausted.

It was weeks before Erin could finally put that book out of her mind and now this note not only reminded her, but was evidence that someone else knew her embarrassing secret. No longer able to eat, Erin threw everything into the trash. Everything, except the note.

She should tear the note to pieces. Set it on fire. Flush it down the toilet. No, it went into the pocket of her sensible skirt that matched her sensible buttoned up blouse that matched her flat, sensible shoes.

Erin tried to concentrate on her work, but all she could think about was that note in her pocket. Who knew about that book? Who slipped the note into her lunch bag? Was it someone who worked there? Maybe a museum patron? Maybe some crazed lunatic! For the rest of the afternoon, Erin kept looking over her shoulder to see if someone was watching her.

The ride home on the bus was sheer torture and Erin practically ran the four blocks from the bus stop to her apartment. For the rest of the night, Erin sat on the sofa with her arms wrapped around legs and methodically chewed her fingernails down to stubs.

What was she going to do?

To be continued …

Sizes: Maitreya, Legacy[F], Ebody Reborn, Hourglass

HUD: 10 Colors & 10 Metals

LM: Kinky Event // February 2022