Post by Justin KG on Dec 26, 2010 21:36:36 GMT -8
April 10th 1994
She howled in pain, but the sound did not escape her lips. Her claws demanded blood and she fought for it, but silver chains bound her arms to granite slabs. Blood spilled from her in a steady flow, caught by bowls set ritually below the ancient stone altar. Nothing could have prepared her for this, and her mind was caught in a torrent of madness fueled by rage and the need to lash out against the man that did this to her.
He watched from afar and howled in pain, but the sound did not reach her. His claws demanded blood, but the light of Luna bound him from moving his massive form. Blood spilled from him in a steady flow, the ropes of silver light bathed in the product of his struggle. Nothing could have prepared him for this, and his mind was caught in a torrent of madness fueled by rage and the need to lash out against the spirit that did this to her.
For weeks he wished he could tell her the truth, but the words wouldn’t come. Would she have believed him if he had told her? That a spirit would use his body in such a fashion was unimaginable, unless of course it was a bane, but that was impossible. His chiminage for the gift he had created was possession by a spirit of the Wyld for one moon. The experience left him changed, one eye different from the other, odd streaks of color in his hair and on his skin, and other cosmetic abnormalities too subtle and numerous to recount, but it also left him the father of a child… a metis child.
For weeks she wished she could tell him the truth, but the words wouldn’t come. Would he have believed her if she had told him? That a spirit would allow such a violation of her body was unimaginable, but that HE would do that to her was even more unimaginable. A ritual had gone wrong, a joining of the weavers work and the blessings of creation, a fetish that had never been seen before failed completely leaving her open to the wrath of the spirits that she called forth. She does not know what had taken her that night, but he took her during it, a strange coincidence on wings of passion that she knew forbidden from deep within her mind. She would have ended it when she awoke to her feelings of anger, sadness, and panic, but a Loon came to her in the fading light of the moon and comforted her, and the creation brewing within her.
Together they suffered alone and apart, only meeting at formal occasions and then with only brief words to each other. He was a Fianna of low Fury breeding, and she a Fury of a great ancestry, so that this was happening to them both was a disaster that they wished could have been kept secret, but the Crone knew, the old priestess knew from the beginning, or at least seemed to. She watched them, and came into the young Maiden’s confidence to lead her toward a difficult Motherhood. Secrets were everywhere, the soon-to-be mother had them, the father had them, and the Crone had a lot of them, the biggest one being her service to powers unknown.
She howled in pain, but the sound did not escape her lips. Her claws demanded blood and she fought for it, but silver chains bound her arms to granite slabs. Blood spilled from her in a steady flow, caught by bowls set ritually below the ancient stone altar. Nothing could have prepared her for this, and her mind was caught in a torrent of madness fueled by rage and the need to lash out against the man that did this to her.
He watched from afar and howled in pain, but the sound did not reach her. His claws demanded blood, but the light of Luna bound him from moving his massive form. Blood spilled from him in a steady flow, the ropes of silver light bathed in the product of his struggle. Nothing could have prepared him for this, and his mind was caught in a torrent of madness fueled by rage and the need to lash out against the spirit that did this to her.
For weeks he wished he could tell her the truth, but the words wouldn’t come. Would she have believed him if he had told her? That a spirit would use his body in such a fashion was unimaginable, unless of course it was a bane, but that was impossible. His chiminage for the gift he had created was possession by a spirit of the Wyld for one moon. The experience left him changed, one eye different from the other, odd streaks of color in his hair and on his skin, and other cosmetic abnormalities too subtle and numerous to recount, but it also left him the father of a child… a metis child.
For weeks she wished she could tell him the truth, but the words wouldn’t come. Would he have believed her if she had told him? That a spirit would allow such a violation of her body was unimaginable, but that HE would do that to her was even more unimaginable. A ritual had gone wrong, a joining of the weavers work and the blessings of creation, a fetish that had never been seen before failed completely leaving her open to the wrath of the spirits that she called forth. She does not know what had taken her that night, but he took her during it, a strange coincidence on wings of passion that she knew forbidden from deep within her mind. She would have ended it when she awoke to her feelings of anger, sadness, and panic, but a Loon came to her in the fading light of the moon and comforted her, and the creation brewing within her.
Together they suffered alone and apart, only meeting at formal occasions and then with only brief words to each other. He was a Fianna of low Fury breeding, and she a Fury of a great ancestry, so that this was happening to them both was a disaster that they wished could have been kept secret, but the Crone knew, the old priestess knew from the beginning, or at least seemed to. She watched them, and came into the young Maiden’s confidence to lead her toward a difficult Motherhood. Secrets were everywhere, the soon-to-be mother had them, the father had them, and the Crone had a lot of them, the biggest one being her service to powers unknown.
