Marika Anastacia Romanski Says Hello

Dark Eve. My name is Marika Anastacia Romanski. I am a Walker of the Shadows. I am a Creature of the Night. I am a 300 plus year old Kalderash Romany Gypsy. And I am a vampire. I am known by the clans of the Immortal Gypsies as The Phoenix. I am here because Katarina Thomas has chosen to write the story of my sister Durrina Romanski, Duke Nikoli Romanski, and Duke Serge Romannov as well as my beloved Leopald de DuBarry. My story starts in "Illusion of Life" a new novel that contains all of us. The next book is" Ashes to Flame " which explains how I became what I am and my life before that. I am known as the The Phoenix. The Eternal Wildcat among my clans of Immortals. There is a reason for that which I cannot reveal for then why would you wish to buy the book. I am currently in Pittsburgh, PA residing there with all above. It is a fascinating city. We are enjoying all the interaction we have with those of our kind that were already there when we migrated there. And also - well a young woman eternally in her late 20's does enjoy a mortal relationship or two neyt? Welcome to my home on the internet. You may talk to me here about anything - ask me anything - and if it is not too personal I will respond here or I shall have to slip ore your windowsill one night and whisper it to you in your dreams. Dah that is a most pleasant experience neyt?

Marika Anastacia Romanski

"Song Of The Winds"

Hark, doest thou not feel it, a chill stir in the air,
A slightest wave of movement, as if it is not truly there.
Can ye nae feel that which is coming ore the horizon;s rise,
A moaning low, the voice of shadows whispering to themselves of a demise.
The reaping of a whirlwind that not till now has mortal man ever seen
Nor could ever describe is what justice comes from sister to sister in between.
Powers are joining, sisters calling from one to the other, carried on winds higher
the wind whips now the meadows, petals are falling from early summer flowers,
Clouds of fluffy white begin to shimmer in terror away and subside
The rays of the sun begin to slink away, it holds not the strength to match these cries
Hear ye not the voice on the wind, calling for a kumpani, a sister of bonding,
A joining once begun that thee be nae one that can stop what it is now in each pounding
Power of an ancient calls to power of another, blood throbs in veins of both fast
Passion of a kind now that would make a lion cower to his den as it pasts,
Oh now comes the true fever of the two joined, blood calls to blood
A brother then another hears and now to the two raises their voices calling down the judgment flood.
"Hear me those that would step on a sister I call closer than my sire.
Fear me those that have wounded any part of her, be it her, child or just her ardent desire.
Know that I come, a sister that you will never see, till the claws of my paws rake a red line
Down the cowardice back of thee, a line that I shall take pleasure in licking to your spine.
Did you think you could play your games for an eternity of eternities?
Did you think that you were the most powerful, oh how childish ye have been dreaming.
Ye shall nae know the hour, the moment the second that we shall come as we plan
But come we do, for we have been shamed by your actions as an immortal from clan to clan.
You have thought that you could beg for forgiveness and be excused.
Foolish one, did you think the ancient ones would be so easily amused?
See thee now the very crack of the now black sky with streaks of light?
Hear ye now the very roar of what others may call thunder but is our fury at your slight?
To late, too late, you have turned from your ways,
You sealed your fate the last time you lied today."

GYPSY FIRES - MARIKA RETURNS

Sliver of light splits the night sky like some force in agony of birthing.
Then is still, to hang there, as stars one by one come to worship it re-birthing.
She moves, black silk as fine as the air shivers slight, hushed, over porcelain pure.
Below her, a paw black, sleek, so dark its ebony fur of satin shimmers most surely.
Eyes now raise in unison, answering that ancient call of her re-birth, gold eyes slanted as a pair, find each other in that moment of resurrection and she smiles as the one below growls out a purr. Deep within her it is as if a spark has been struck, she answers him with a low purr, pure and luring.
Raising now a leg, clad in that silk, she lifts it up straight from her waist, the ankle bells chime. Oh how they twinkle, and as if in reply to their call another begins to rise, as if the chimes mark the time.

Shoulder rolls to shoulder, black silk only covers the barest parts o them as she lowers her leg and in a motion of perfect syncopation with the one below she winds her body to a sitting position to come to full power.
Watching she smiles, golden hair falls slightly past her shoulders, a braid in the back eternally remains, decorated with dull silver beads of reason of memories of greatest suffering, and greater brought by her retribution. Gold eyes lined with the kohl of the ancient queens of the east focus on the motion of the furred lover,oh how she adores this eternally loyal beast, Talamaur, blue eyes slanted as hers.
Now she moves, one leg winds around the tree trunk and she lets her hips guide her down the already predestined path of Talamaur, great god of the southern islands, hers to command, hers to love and she is his as well. Soft feminine foot touches the ground, the Black Panther is already in his submission, “Neyt” comes as her first spoken word, intonation that equals in sensation of whisper to that finest of silk she is adorned in.

Leggings adorn her from hip to ankle, her feet are bare, one ankle rings with each alternate step, as the silk vibrates with each gyration of her hips.
She moves through the Shadows this night with a God at her side, to a circle;a fire ring, standing at it she lifts her right arm, all that is heard is the spark cracking
as the flames come at her command, she turns; her back is imprinted whole with the colors of the tattoo of the Phoenix for that is she, The Queen of the Kalderash, The One that the Holy Ones have taught all to. Flames climb as she watches; her gold lined eyes dipping into a deeper bronze, smiling she lifts her hand and they leap into the sky to make the imprint of the Phoenix above the camp of her people that now come one by one out of the Shadows.

As they do, the Phoenix burns above in the sky, the flames burn below, as one by one they come, Children of Marika Anastasia Romanski, Romany Kalderash, The true Gypsies of the Clans, for she has protected them all as she alone can.
Furs surround the fire, now visible in the rising fire; she stretches out full on hers,
watching as her Children move to celebrate her awakening, Talamaur is stretched full along her, her hand moves over him as if he is some desired lover, softly she caresses his coat, purring to him in the language only a gypsy could understand.
Blue eyes meet gold and he rolls over as a kitten in her hands.


The night splits, a tambourine rings out, a violin strikes a chord, her spirit she has kept through Romany magic, is lit, one hand caresses Talamaur as she raises the other and shakes the chimes on her wrist. Her hand rises as do the flames, twisting in such a way that is as if she is one with all motion. Soon her shoulders follow that hand, a roll of her left shoulder brings her up to sit beside Talamaur, a knee is bent, and she bends forward her head to rest for a second upon it. Then both arms are in the air, gold hair flies backwards as her head is thrown, and she rolls both her shoulders, rising with them from the bended knee to full tall length. On leg, adorned with timbres shaking steps ore the God, the music swells now as violin after violin are raised in the passion she is creating. Free of the furs she begins to let her soul fly free, bending backwards from her waist she lays her head almost backwards on the ground, covering herself with winding and intertwining arms that move in their course to the stars that bow to them. She raises up, gold eyes deepest bronze, the flames are drawn to them and flicker in their irises, as she moves one leg forward with a sway of those oh so delicately shaped to perfection hips, then the other follows, the chains around her waist sing.
Gyrations then a full arm lifted twirl as silk flies revealing Marika  almost in all her perfection. The Phoenix on her back has one wing tattooed ore her left shoulder, but yet it there does not remain for as she dances the magic becomes an enchantment of her making and the wing flutters in desire.

She moves from Child to Child, bending back to the men, showing them she is not
But one o them, forward to the women with one leg straight and her head on her knee, as on hand sweeps across the ground, round and round now she twirls, soon she is joined by the rest of the dancers, a myriad of silk flies in colors made unique of silks joining silks as dancers blend with the Magic in black. The fire flares and she smiles, once more the new moon has heard her call, She has sung her song and life reigns in the world of Shadows. Long will the Phoenix burn in that sky, as a signal for other Shadow walkers to come and join the Magic of The Romany Kalderash. And as her children take over, and find such wild desires and release, she seeks out that one hidden in the shadows, a tall dark man, his dark hair to his shoulders, the one that enchanted her, her maker, her king, her passion, her desire fulfillment. Steps she now takes are as silent as the panther that follows, a God protecting his Goddess, as she walks only with that every other slight tangle of bells into his arms. Lips find lips, fingers play upon flesh, he smiles, she just looks into his eyes, dark are they, yet hers burn such a bronze that the very flames inhabit her whole. He takes her into his arms, Marika yields, and with one kiss, a kiss of such sharp ecstasy the wine flows, the nectar of life fills the air with the scent of jasmine and cinnabar. Sweet, the potent vitae of the Kalderash, and he drinks of her, till she raises her head back and howls as does the panther, letting the whole of the night know she is now the hunter and so she goes forward letting her kiss go deep, deep into the courses of his soul, drinking into herself the life that fires her spirit to burn. Fingers pull at his hair,  her body presses to his, she becomes as he is curve to curve, indent to indent they are now one, as they both find again that ancient wine of life, and together the heads roll back and howl to the night of the supremacy of their cravings of passion beyond even mortal imaginings. Talamaur echos their joy, and then slowly they caress, a lick, a kiss and no marks show, hand in hand Marika and the Stranger of Desire, walk back to where her children are lost now in the passion they have sprung. Lowering to her furs, they intertwine, leg over leg, Talamaur rests down, a hand stretches out to him, caressing him, speaking to him in his language, and as she does, the language becomes real. Three black panthers inhabit the furs, two huge one slightly smaller, one with gold eyes, one with blue eyes, one with eyes as dark as the night. Enchantment fills the night – welcome my friends, welcome Shadow Walkers to the Gypsy Fires.

HIS EMBRACE

And he would come out of the shadows, slippin, slippin ore my silk and lace draped window sill,
But I knew before he was there, that soon, oh not soon enough,  he would be here, oh blessed night he would be here.
For all that I was burned with a flaming desire that was as a stamp on my soul for him as I stood poised  as unto a Grecian statue in an ivory silk sheer gown, one in which I had been sleeping.
A moan escaped my lips as I felt him in my blood to be near, I had slid from the sheets and stood there awaitin, awaitin, my entire being trembling for him only to appear..
In my bedroom chamber there did I stand bearing in my blood a desire felt long before I ever knew such depths of such could ever be felt by mortal emotions that did by nature true stand.
Then ore my windowsill he did silently enter my most private of chambers, but it was ours, made public the first night I to him gave my surrender.
His eyes found mine, I found his, and I drowned in the pools of the ebbing ripples of endless tides of the depths of darkness therein.
Down and down I went into the pools of tidal whirling of blackness and emptiness that he
was offering in that gaze, loosing myself at first and then finding myself wrapped with him again in them.
Then he reached for me and my hand found his palm, fingers joined with fingers as they
intertwined - "Hush, it is alright" were the only words he said but they were like music, nae a full concerto in my head, in my heart and to them my body did a dance of surrender and my soul let him lead me down once more to the path of eternal dark forever more.
Dance we did in the depths of the night, as I felt his teeth begin to penetrate the sweet but oh so ripe for him  tender flesh, only after the sweet sweep of his lips there not but a moment ago and my blood did ignite into full fire as he took me in his arms whole.
"Create in me that that you will, I am yours this I offer up to you, make me in your arms all you can desire, take me, make me as you, make me yours for all time now."
And his answer was the sweetest penetration known, and when he was done he gave of himself to me and made me his own and I marveled at the heights of passion that I could reach
in the arms of this Master, my Dark Lord, my Love  forever in his embrace I would dance with him evermore........


Marika