Pardon us while we get a bit esoteric, but it's time to talk about time (and memory, and cyclicality). The way the fae experience it is rather different from your garden-variety fleshly linear human types—and yet at the same time, not so different at all. We're talking about the chaotic progression of time in the Dreaming and the magic that changelings use to harness it, but also their life stages and cycles of reincarnation, and how those inform the calendar they live by. As is usual for our theme episodes, we ramble our way through these and associated topics. As is unusual, we had So Many Issues with recording, which seemed appropriate. Nevertheless, we have persevered to bring you a few of our takes, so we hope you'll enjoy.

This isn't a library dive, but we mention The Enchanted as a solid sourcebook for handling seemings and transitions, so if you'd care to pick it up, stop by https://www.storytellersvault.com/product/288?affiliate_id=3063731 for the PDF. And then, because Pooka is a shameless self-promoter, if you'd like to check out some of their homebrew Changeling work that deals with time and a kith largely defined by it, respectively, Book of Days (https://www.storytellersvault.com/product/412055?affiliate_id=3063731) and Kithbook: Ghille Dhu (https://www.storytellersvault.com/product/381967?affiliate_id=3063731) are both available on the STV as well!

And in news from the temporal realm of Deadlines, we are still accepting submissions for our Build-a-Sluagh contest! As a reminder: email us at [email protected] with a sluagh character sheet and backstory, following the C20 character creation rules. (You have the option to spend up to 100 XP to make an advanced character.) Please include everything in the body of the email, else attach a DOC or PDF. We're hoping to pick a winner by the end of this week—get your skulkers in while the shadows are still squirming.

Josh Hillerup (any pronoun) never felt that the song "Turn! Turn! Turn!" needed that many exclamation points in its title.

And they all pretend they're orphans, and their memory's like a train—