Primal Worship I

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[119] Nymaya: Primal Worship (I)
Thu Aug  7 21:02:44 2014
To: All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus Philyra ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )
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The flames of the bonfire licked high into a black sky, the only light to be glimpsed for miles.  For neither star nor moon flickered above, replaced by the heavy shadow of threatening clouds.

It was a night to worship, to believe in demons and wild spirits.  In which dark things danced through the deep, caressing dreams and nightmare alike.

She stood by the edge of that wild light, captivated and bound to the eerie chanting, the ominous beat of drums.  It called to her, slipping through the blood like distant thunder, her heart beating strangely in time.  It hearkened to something ancient, something primitive within.

Fur-laden bodies painted with red, black and white moved rhythmically around the flames - like freed spirits, everything about them was primal and mesmerizing.  She could feel their movement in the ground and that part of her that had grown among their ilk, that had fit more with their wildness, sought to join.

She did not though.

She stood alone, watching the hypnotic play of shadows as it cast a rictus visage over each of them in turn.  As if the God of Death were there among the gloom, casting a mix of blessings and curses.

Her thoughts fell like stones into the river of her Song, that rushed just beneath the surface.  Appraising the moment and how appropriate it felt, gazing inward to mark the ever present resonance of the Haunt that writhed as if called by the bonfire...and the cold shadow that had long since taken hold in her soul.

Quiet your thoughts

The whisper licked through her like a fine edge, tingling painfully over nerve endings, leaving behind an oily taint that was recognized intimately. She obeyed though and let silence rule her mind.

A breath of icy wind swirled around her, an infernal caress if ever she'd felt one, and then dispersed.  The stale humidity closed in again and though the rustic drumming continued, she became aware that the elders all had their eyes on her and the dancers had turned, their arms lifted toward the above.

Tempted to turn away, to fade into the impenetrable night all around, she was instead rooted to her place at the edge of the fire light.  She had been invited, a rare gift or so she had come to understand, and her discomfort aside she could not turn her back on that.  For no matter how refined she might have become, in life and faith, this was primal and important.

The elves, her wild kin, who lived among the shadowy boughs of the Great Forest were not a welcoming lot but she had piqued their curiosity.  A high born - they called her - who wore wild heritage openly and walked in darkness.  She was not a stranger to such regard.  If only they knew...

"You will drink of this, you will dream and we will know." The voice was ancient and brooked no argument.  She hadn't heard the elder approach but she met his steely eyes and slowly accepted the fragrant bowl.

*cont*