Rhiannon Wyldrose
Legacy Name: Rhiannon Wyldrose

~The Loveologist~

Learning white magic is something of a tradition among the females of my family line. Call it an equalizing ancient force that helped to balance patriarchy against the brilliance of strong female minds being oppressed. (I should forewarn you that I have a PhD in Psychology...from this point on, I swear I will do my best not to talk like a textbook.)

The family legend states that Wylda was the founder of the White Witches who combat darkness and promote healing and harmony. We take our name from Wylda whose minion was a crystallic creature named Rose. It was Wylda that began to collect spells and perfect recipes for the potions that could cure bad acne or insomnia with one sip. Magic protects the yellowed pages on which her original notes are written. The leather-bound tome she left to her daughters has grown with each generation, expanding at the mutter of a certain ancient phrase and shrinking to the size of a pin at the stroke of a Wyldrose talon.

The women in my life are Rosaria and Tonia, the mother that raised me and the grandmother that encouraged me to follow my dreams, no matter how big or impossible they seemed. They were there through all the little incidents of childhood and the drama of the teenage years. As I entered my last year of high school - a special school catered toward students with magical talents - I realized that simply settling into the family shop would never be enough for me. I didn't want to just mutter a few ancient phrases to make problems go away. I wanted to get at the root of those problems, especially matters of the heart. I wanted to be the first White Witch on record to go to college.

My family was reluctant at first. Were there not enough books in the family library collected over seven centuries? Would I not be uncomfortable living amidst average Subetans with little more magical knowledge than a child with a pack of trick cards? I would not be discouraged. Mingling with Subetans different from myself would make me a better witch as most that came to me with their problems were sure to be lacking magical knowledge. We came to a compromise. I would complete a two-year program and if Gram was impressed, she would fund my educational journey for as long as I cared to pursue it.

I studied hard through my general coursework, grateful for those introductory psychology courses that gave me a point of interest amid simplistic math and literature classes. For two years, I wolfed down campus pizza in the early morning hours while helping my friends study for exams I could have passed in my sleep. I got straight A's without a minus in sight. I was the darling of my professors and a friend to everybody, regardless of major. Gram was impressed. She was there to see me earn my Bachelor's and Master's. She died in the first year of my PhD, but I know she was proud of me. I will always mourn losing such a strong and talented woman, but there is no doubt in my mind that our spirits will meet again far into the future. Though I've been in my profession a full five years, Mom still likes to send me little cards and plates of sugar-free cookies. She always gets me the pack of assorted berry jam shortbreads because she knows how much I love them. I home-bake her a batch of gingerbread montres on the holidays as a way of letting her know how grateful I am for everything she does for me.

My practice is thriving. I was very fortunate to gain office space in the heart of Centropolis Professional Park. I utilize my space to maximize the comfort and relaxation of my patients. Soothing landscapes of gentle waves on the beach and grassy fields hang on three of my walls, with my diplomas and awards taking up one small corner. The paintings are AutumnMoon originals, each one a custom commission. I was tempted to take a minor in Art History, for while I have no artistic skills of my own, I adore going to the Museum at Delphi and viewing the works of the artistic greats. I also have an original Zariel sculpture positioned at the center of the room, its spires shaped from brass, copper, and silver. Runes for reflective thinking and relaxed muscles are subtly worked into the design.

My first patient of the day is a neela I will call Goatee. (You will understand why I do not give his true name, of course.) Goatee has many phobias, high anxiety levels, and a tendency to put himself down while idolizing those Subetans whose names are well known. He crosses his legs and bounces one hoof up and down when I invite him to take a seat.

"How are you today, Goatee?"

"Terrible. My whole week has been rotten. I tried that breathing exercise you gave me, Doctor Wyldrose. It was working pretty good up until I looked out the window and saw this big flier of Saggitarius bragging up his new line of gold flake pastries. Message received. I can't even make a batch of maple leaf cookies without burning them and they only require the first baking level."

"You need to work on setting your own goals, Goatee. Instead of worrying about what the rich and famous are doing, I want you to start keeping a journal of one of your successes every day, even if it's only a little one like arriving at work on time. I'm also going to recommend you double your daily tonic. I'll see to it a filled bottle is sent to your house by the end of the day."

"I don't like the taste of it, Doctor. It tastes too much of marshmallows. The old one tasted more like lemons and I liked that better. Sweet things only remind me how bad I am at baking, even when I buy the starter kit. A chibi pet can bake with the starter kit but everything I make turns into a black blob."

How anyone could delight in the sour tang of a citrus fruit is quite beyond my comprehension. However my interest is in helping my patients, not in pushing my personal taste preferences on others. "Alright, Goatee. I'll work on the balance of ingredients and see to it that the new bottle has less sweetness."

I let Goatee tell me about the rest of his week, making a mental note to double the lavender ratio on that tonic. Clearly the current batch is not having the affect in combating his anxiety that I was hoping for.

My next patients are a couple seeking therapy for their failing marriage. Though this feli and ruffie pair have their differences, it is quite clear that they very much love each other. She is a fashionable feline working as a Subeatique clerk. He is a construction worker helping to build the newest apartment complex in Centropolis. The only point they've agreed on in three sessions is that they will not separate.

Far too many of the couples I've worked with simply do not have the dedication to make it through the tough conversations. The one type of relationship that makes me want to magic my talons into claws and unsheathe them is an abusive one. Do not give me tired lines. I will report you to the kumos patrol if I so much as suspect such behavior.

Fashion and Muscles have completed the workbook I assigned. There are many cross-out marks and even one page that is ink-spattered due to a broken pen, but the work is done. We take the time to go over their answers. I have to ask Fashion to put her phone away twice and I can tell Muscles is thinking about the football game he's missing. It's time to try a less orthodox approach.

The Understanding Chant will allow them to see through the other's eyes. I can tell they are a little nervous about the circle of candles, but by the time we are halfway through, all traces of fear are gone, replaced by great interest, humor, and at points disgust. There is still much work to be done, but they came into my office barely speaking and they walk out deep in conversation.

Gallica Rose is not shy about letting me know when it is time to go home. My little dragon grows bored sitting in her minion bed. There are some patients she is able to soothe with the shifting colors on her scales but others find her alarming. I never introduce her until I feel comfortable with the patient and their personality type.

I am told all the time that my cottage looks like the whimsical imagining of some fairy tale bard. Green siding is accented with metal leaves painted a vibrant green. Little red clockwork birds trill the time during the daylight hours while their feathered cousins make nests among the evergreens and flowering shrubs.

Tonight's dish of choice is Lobster Thermidor with a compliment of strawberry pie purchased just this morning from the Bake Stop. I delight in seafood dishes that are cooked and I would freeze the seasons to remain in the heart of summer when the berries are at their juiciest point.

My porch has a magnificent view of Veta Lake. A peach bellini and Gallica's gentle hum are all I need to fall into a relaxed state of mind.

I can hardly look out on my yard without a flood of memories invading my thoughts. I know firsthand the numerous challenges of relationships. For all my learning and magical skill, I am as much a victim of love as the marsh warador that pined away on account of the golden lain she secretly admired.

The volleyball net near the beach makes me think back on Androw, an arid antlephore with a great sense of humor and a real skill for fixing cars. He's settled in Centropolis now, with a mechanics shop of his own. I hear he is going steady with a chai who dances for the Subeta Ballet. We parted on good terms and I can rely on him to send me a Luminaire card every year.

The shady oak on the corner of the porch is the place where Jerad offered me a ring I could not accept. As much as I loved looking up at the stars with him, I simply could not live with the terror that took over every time he signed up for another month on the Atebus mining circuit. He refers miners to my office all the time and we remain the best of friends. I never knew a velosotor with such gorgeous eyes.

The grassy ditch is the place where my heart was broken by two very different loves. Everything started out magically with Rollie. He was a kerubi with a good job, a charming smile and a way of saying all the right things. The first few months of dating were bliss. Then I angered him the first time.

He threw me to the grass, whipping his tail at my face and calling me all manner of horrible names. I was so astonished that for a moment, I could not act. No spell would come to mind. Then I realized the sort of Subetan Rollie really was. I had never used my talons to defend myself, not even against those bullies that taunted me on the playground. Rollie froze when my sharp talons whistled past his head, one on each side. He knew I could leave him blind at best or dead at worst.

Needless to say, we broke up that same day. I have never spoken to him since, though I believe he settled in Darkside somewhere.

Then there was Ruben. Few looked twice at the quiet-spoken common kumos with the rusty red car and the enormous heart. We met on a day when I was feeling low. He came to offer his umbrella. I hadn't even realized I was standing in the rain. I knew I shouldn't give in to such a tempting cliche, but it really did feel good to have a strong arm around my shoulders. I didn't have to feel guilty for long. I saved him as often as he saved me and if he had made Jerad's offer, I know I would have accepted.

He was a marine biologist before all else, as I was a witch and a psychologist. The offer of two years to study the ocean life of Omen Islands was an opportunity I would not allow him to pass on, though tears were in my feathers when I told him to go. I still think about him often. I still rip apart the envelopes containing his letters with a ferocity usually reserved for the battle colosium. He writes to me every week, though I know he is so busy. I often laugh at myself when my scramble to find a pen results in grabbing a drinking straw from my cluttered kitchen junk drawer.

All the same, it never takes me more than a day to send off my reply.

I get a good giggle out of the title my friends have granted to me. They call me the doctor of Loveology. My profession has taught me that true love is the exception and not the rule, yet I will always hold out for finding my own lasting happiness though I live to be one hundred.