A Visitor From Afar
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A woman comes. And with her, an Army.
Perhaps a strange thing it was for the cat to say, though her words are rarely audible to the human ear. Astarté has been a constant mainstay around my home even since before Alexandra's departure into the Afterlife. I heard her plain as day though. A woman would soon arrive, and with an army as well.
"Astarte, go and see who has come calling." This I commanded her before continuing on my way home again, for I had collected all the Witches' Moss beneath the stones that I needed for the day, and I never intend to linger when dusk is close at hand.
Let me correct the details of her report. It was not merely a woman who was coming, but a warrioress.
"Did you ask her whether she was friend or foe?"
No.
"Well.. why not?"
But Astarte decided she had no more to say on the subject.. and simply walked away.
"Coward," I called to her after she had vanished somewhere in my house.
Within minutes even, there was a knock upon my door and a boistrous call from the opposite side, "Is someone there? I have come a long ways to speak with you."
I did not call back as I slowly dropped the dried and withered Frankincense Tears to steep in the kettle of hot water, whispering what I knew to be true already: "You've come for far more than a friendly conversation."
Another loud knock resounded, this time with more desperation. "I need your help and I am willing to pay! Will you open the door?"
Frankincense Tears is the principle herb most often burned in the fire for rites such as purification or consecration, also proved potent in rites of protection and even exorcism. But today.. we shall drink. When I did alas open my door to the stranger, I glanced briefly past her, "You and.. your army?" Half expecting to see an army, I was. But there was none.. merely a woman and her horse.
"My.. my army? I brought no army, Sir. Are you hiding from one?"
"Everyone harbors an enemy." And with that, the door slammed shut behind her and bolted itself as the iron latch fell into place. It is best not to tempt the Gloumenwood past dusk.
The Mystery of Change, be it known.. is Stability.
Perhaps a strange thing it was for the cat to say, though her words are rarely audible to the human ear. Astarté has been a constant mainstay around my home even since before Alexandra's departure into the Afterlife. I heard her plain as day though. A woman would soon arrive, and with an army as well.
"Astarte, go and see who has come calling." This I commanded her before continuing on my way home again, for I had collected all the Witches' Moss beneath the stones that I needed for the day, and I never intend to linger when dusk is close at hand.
Let me correct the details of her report. It was not merely a woman who was coming, but a warrioress.
"Did you ask her whether she was friend or foe?"
No.
"Well.. why not?"
But Astarte decided she had no more to say on the subject.. and simply walked away.
"Coward," I called to her after she had vanished somewhere in my house.
Within minutes even, there was a knock upon my door and a boistrous call from the opposite side, "Is someone there? I have come a long ways to speak with you."
I did not call back as I slowly dropped the dried and withered Frankincense Tears to steep in the kettle of hot water, whispering what I knew to be true already: "You've come for far more than a friendly conversation."
Another loud knock resounded, this time with more desperation. "I need your help and I am willing to pay! Will you open the door?"
Frankincense Tears is the principle herb most often burned in the fire for rites such as purification or consecration, also proved potent in rites of protection and even exorcism. But today.. we shall drink. When I did alas open my door to the stranger, I glanced briefly past her, "You and.. your army?" Half expecting to see an army, I was. But there was none.. merely a woman and her horse.
"My.. my army? I brought no army, Sir. Are you hiding from one?"
"Everyone harbors an enemy." And with that, the door slammed shut behind her and bolted itself as the iron latch fell into place. It is best not to tempt the Gloumenwood past dusk.
The Mystery of Change, be it known.. is Stability.
Labels: Bryony, Bryony de Rose, Druid, Necromancer, Storyteller's Triquetra, The Triquetra, Triquetra, Vale, Vale of the Enclave, Warlock, Warrick, Warrick Erebus
