Thursday, August 17, 2017

Primal Worship IV

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[122] Nymaya: Primal Worship (IV)
Thu Aug  7 21:30:52 2014
To: All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus  ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The night was still and she could taste smoke, smell ash and ember.  The bonfire smoldered where it stood but the flames had receded.  The wild elves were gone with the exception of the shaman who sat nearby, gazing at her. 

Weary but released of the ritual, she pushed herself up and sat still, simply content to be free of the fever.  To be awake. 

The shaman stood while the silence thickened and walked to her side.  A feather lowered before her, held in his calloused hand.  White and possessed of many brown streaks and spots, he held it there until she finally accepted it.  Owl..? 

"Wisdom and death walk hand in hand." His cryptic words filled the silence and then, "That spirit will only bring you pain.  If you ever wish to be free of it, come to me."

"Which one?" She asked wryly, voice hoarse.  Her throat was parched.

The shaman laughed at that and lowered her a bowl that sloshed.  She narrowed her eyes at it and glanced up at his grinning features, still painted with white, black and red.  Stark colors that made him look as wild as his heritage suggested. 

"It is not the ritual drink." He claimed with amusement.  "Just water."

"I don't think I'll be doing that again." And she lifted her left hand to accept, but stopped short of taking the bowl.  There was a poultice wrapped around the scar, extending from palm to wrist. 

The shaman crouched on his haunches and taking her right hand, forced her to accept the bowl even while he explained, "Your scar reopened during the ritual.  We take this to mean Fatale was pleased."

Pain throbbed in a sharp line through the wound as soon as she noticed it but rather than dwell, she set her mind to the water and took several deep droughts. She would not accuse these elves of lying but it seemed more likely to her that someone bled her with a dagger - again.

When she was finished, the shaman was gone. Without a sound, leaving nothing but the spent bonfire, the feather and the bowl behind.

No comments: