Havenblock

Now Muses are formed not conceived. So back when creators were cultured and appreciative, full Muse families were formed. A full Muse family consisted of a mother figure contrasted in color by a father figure and two pre-muses who started life at seven years of age. Sometimes the pre-muses were contrasting, but more often than not, they were twins. In the rare instances of early summers, figures were not given pre-muses immediately. They would have to wait until the spring blossoms and the music reappeared. Sometimes spring season would be overcast, so the sunshine and the butterflies were few and far between. And sometimes, other Havens needed Muses, such as Havenchord; where the Muses of Lyrics and Instruments lived, because technology took all the musicians away. All three catalysts were the reasons that Jean and Galatea were not given a pre-muse, well that and the fact that Galatea was a sculptor and Jean was a painter and they were too busy making the world over and above Havenstroke majestically delightful. So God gave them Rima, a poetic Muse.

Not only did Rima contrast with the Artistic Muses but she contrasted in color as well. Galatea was a turquoise Muse with long golden hair, crimson wings and emerald eyes. Jean donned long dark dreads that startled his mint green skin, cobalt blue wings and violet eyes.

The couple cautiously approached the little Muse and stared into her silver eyes. Rima’s evergreen wings jetted out from a long mane of raven hair and flapped in an accidentally provoking manner. Galatea flicked clay off of her finger casting a look at Jean, who was wiping paint from his brow that dripped from his dreadlocks.

“What do we do with her?” Galatea asked with disdain in her voice. Rima frowned and flew over to her father figure and hovered. She thought she would be safe from Galatea’s emerald stare.

“Do with her?” Jean asked back while smirking at Rima’s odd appearance. “I suppose we are to cultivate her through the acquisition period.”

“But we hadn’t the time. We are too busy creating beauty for the world to see,” Galatea responded throwing her arms around in reckless abandon and taking flight to flitter to the top of their lily.

Jean watched his companion with a twisted smile and flew up to her splattering yellow paint on Rima’s wings as he flew causing Rima to fall with a thud, “That may be the issue. We are not supposed to create we are supposed to inspire.”

Galatea’s voice became a harsh whisper. “Inspire who Jean?! You see where we are!!! No one cares anymore!!! Look what the creators have done to this city…

Jean interrupted, “I wasn’t talking about the creators.”

Galatea’s wings shot straight up and she crossed her arms, “Then honestly Jean who?”

Jean’s wings expanded to their full span and began to sparkle causing Galatea to look down to the soil floor. Rima’s hands were covered in the yellow paint from her wings and she was writing with her lilac finger.

“Her,” Jean said looking into Galatea’s eyes. Her wings relaxed then came to full span sparkling softly at first then vibrantly as she noticed the word sanctuary scrawled on the wall.

“Well at least she is a quick one,” Galatea commented as her wings quickly resumed a stiff position. Jean’s wings, however, remained at full span as he gazed upon Rima who traced the word sanctuary over and over until there was no more paint on her finger.

“Wherever did she come up with that word?” He asked Galatea without taking his eyes off of Rima. Galatea rolled her emerald eyes and pointed to the top of the lily.

“She must have seen the statutes on the way in.”

Jean fluttered to the top of the lily and frowned at the dusty, forgotten book that was perched upon a petal. The Scribe of the Sanctuary is a book that is ivory in color with gold lettering. The paper inside is like the parchment of a bible and it contains all the laws and history of the Muses. Each Muse family was given a copy of the Scribe upon their formation and each pre-muse was supposed to study from it for seven years before he or she could go into the world to inspire the creators.

The Sanctuary is where the Muse Superiors and the Havenheads live. It lies in a layer of atmosphere where the air is still breathable and where light and sound still travel. The Sanctuary looks like an enormous domed sun-catcher and the rays of light literally shoot rainbow-colored sparks out of the top of the dome. Music swirls around giving The Sanctuary the appearance of a kaleidoscope in concert.

The Muse Superiors are the oldest, most experienced Muses of the world. Till and his companion Charis are the only Muses that have glittering silver skin, wings and eyes. Till wears his white hair full while his matching beard and moustache frame his ever-smiling mouth. If a creator were to ever see him they would mention that he resembles the thin, silver Santa-Claus of their world.

Charis, however, is more striking than comforting. Her features are long and narrow and her eye-brows are angular, giving her an annoyed appearance. She wears her long mane pulled off of her forehead and twisted into a meticulously woven braid that she drapes over her left shoulder.

The second Statute of the Muses states that “all Muses, whether Sanctuary members, Havenheads, Muses or pre-muses must respect one another, giving reverence to those Muses with whiter hair”. A Muse with white hair has been able to inspire creators in vast quantity and sometimes superb quality. Fable mentions that the last strand of Charis’ raven mane turned white after she gasped at the birth of a composer with gradually deteriorating hearing.

The Legend of the Muses explains that a Muse obtains a white strand of hair if he or she inspires seven muses a month for seven years straight. So of course, the whiter the Muse’s hair, the more experienced and more respected they are. Presently, there are only eight Muses with all-white hair: Till and Charis- Muse Superiors, Rori and Cleo-Havenheads of Scribe, Adin and Siena-Havenheads of Art, and finally Tallis and Melody-Havenheads of Music. Havenheads have many responsibilities from promoting “whiting” Muses into positions of power to enforcing the Statutes of the Muses but one of the most dreaded yet most important roles of a Havenhead is the necessary banishment of a Muse to Havenblock.

Havenblock is a dark and dismal place approximately two blocks south and one block east of Havenstroke. Havenblock is where Muses are sent when they are unable to inspire a creator for a period of seven years. In Havenblock, Muses’ wings are limp and lifeless and their eyes are pitch black and devoid of sparkle. Blocked Muses are stuck sitting on rows of hard, rainbow-colored plastic chairs and are forced to view a small television that depicts purportedly unscripted dramatic or humorous situations until rescued by a new Muse. Until that time, they continue to become saddened through osmosis from the gray soul creators above them and the sense of hopelessness they have. No Muse, ever, wants to spend any length of time in Havenblock and most work very hard to not have an uninspiring period of seven years.

The only seven year period where un-inspiration is not only permitted but enforced is the period right after the formation of the pre-muse. This period is called the Acquisition Period. Under the tutelage of her mother and father figure, a pre-muse is required to take seven years to learn the Lineage of the Sanctuary, the Legends of the Muses and the Statutes of the Muses from the Scribe of the Sanctuary. Not only were the figures responsible for the lessons of the pre-muse but they would alternate (as to not lose inspiration time) and fly around with the pre-muse so she could acquire as much knowledge on her genre as possible. For example, Music Muses would fly anywhere they heard music and the pre-muse would focus really hard on the sounds until her eyes lit up. Once her eyes started blinking, she was full of knowledge for the day and she could retreat to her Haven to rest.

Jean flew over the lily petal grabbed the Scribe and held it out to Galatea whose wings shot straight up and eyes became mere slits. She then dropped to the ground and stood with her arms crossed with her back towards Rima. Rima was oblivious to her mother figure’s presence as she continued to stick her fingers in puddles of yellow paint. Jean huffed and tucked the Scribe under his arm as he flew down towards Galatea. This made Galatea smack her wings together before they again stood straight up on her back.

“Galatea, it’s time,” Jean said as he landed next to her. Galatea took flight shaking her head.

“No Jean, I don’t have time.”

Rima sat on the floor watching her figures flitter about above her. At one point in the chase, Jean lost his grip on the Scribe and it fell behind an old canvas of his. Rima was too transfixed on the chase to notice. Jean was too worried about Galatea. Galatea was too worried about herself.

“I have to create so I can inspire,” Galatea snipped as she flew away from Jean.

Following out of breath, Jean replied, “The Legends dictate that we alternate our responsibility back and forth until the seven years are up.”

Galatea stopped suddenly forcing Jean to fly smack into her wings sending him reeling to get stuck in the earthy wall, “Then you start it because I just don’t have the time.”

“We are alternating Galatea,” Jean said as he stretched to pry himself from out of the dirt.

Galatea swiftly flew over to Jean before he could completely dislodge himself and pushed him repeatedly in his shoulder until he was hammered back into the wall. She yelled in staccato as she did so.

“Apparently…you…do …not…un…der…stand…what…I…am…try…ing…to …say!!!”

Jean’s wings stood straight up underneath the dirt snapping him free as he pushed Galatea into the molding his body made in the wall. Her wings began to wiggle causing her body to shake and her eyes became creator-like because for the first time in many Muse years, she was scared. Jean saw her fear and gently removed her from the wall and they flew back to the top of the lily and sat on the petal. When they both sighed with exhaustion Jean finally asked Galatea,

“What is it that I don’t understand?”

She sighed heavily this time, “It is the end of my sixth year.”

Jean frowned at her, “No. That’s not true. You inspired the soap sculptor that lives on the other side of the Haven.”

Galatea shook her head, “He passed.”

“How?”

“Slipped in the shower.”

“No?!”

She nodded. Jean’s wings and eyes sparkled in fondness for his companion but her eyes were still creator-like in fear and apprehension as her wings wiggled slightly.

“I will begin for you, ” Jean said softly.

“Thank you for understanding,” she responded as her wings ceased to wiggle and her eyes resumed their normal appearance, “But I do believe it is too late for her to be out so you should start with explaining the Legends. I’ll take her the Scribe before heading out to the university.” She held out her arms to receive the book.

Jean raised his brow, “What?”

“Give me the Scribe.”

“I don’t have it.”

Galatea’s wings started to rise again, “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

Jean began flying around looking about their dwelling, “I must have dropped it while in chase.”

Galatea began flying around as well dipping in and out between paint cans and mounds of clay. She called out to him “Have you seen it?”

“No,” he responded from behind an easel.

“Oh for the love of Charis!” Galatea shouted.

“Hush woman, do not upset the Muse Superiors!” Jean shouted back.

“The Muse Superiors will be more upset if we lost our Scribe!”

Neither were aware that Rima was no longer sitting on the floor. She was, in fact, fluttering about the city streets eyes ablaze as she read the painted windows of the local eateries and slowly approaching a muttering homeless man who was handing out pieces of paper to the remaining passers-by on the sidewalk.